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COPVKIGIIT DEPOSIT. 



THE TRAGEDY OF ETARRE 



THE 

TRAGEDY OF ETARRE 

A POEM 



BY 

RHYS CARPENTER 



STURGIS & WALTON 

COMPANY 

1912 

All rights reserved 






Copyright, 1912, 
Bt RHYS CARPENTEE. 



Set up and electrotyped. Published March, 191 2. 



Norfaooli 13«BS 

J. 8. Gushing Co. — Berwick & Smith Co. 

Norwood, Mas3., U.S.A. 



^CI.A31206i: 



CHARACTERS OF THE POEM 

Pelleas 

Gawaine, knight of the Table Round 

Fergus, attendant on Pelleas 

Etarre 

Aileen, maid to Etarre 

AVRAN 

Balarin \ knights of Etarre 
Maris 



The scene is laid in the Country of Etarre 



THE TRAGEDY OF ETARRE 



PROLOGUE 

SCENE : The curtain rises upon shifting fog-clouds 
which drive across the stage in ceaseless unrest. 
Gawaine is half visible, struggling against the 
grey drift. 

Gawaine 

Is this the dawn whose fingers strive so weak 
To pluck away the clinging shroud of night, 
Or is this some unlightened, sullen land 
Fallen between the darkness and the day ? 
Back from me, shrouded phantoms, misty sprites ! 
This is no time to whirl your shadow-dance : 
Seek out the flooded marshes of the North 
If ye would revel ; seek the sunless heights 
And laugh along their chasms and dark ravines, 
Or frown and lower on plain of gloomy lakes, 
Or battle with the giants of the hills. 

[He unsheathes his sword.] 
Since ye have shape and substance, fear this blade. 
Shifting and mocking though ye vex mine eyes, 
Yet are ye more than breath of mindless air. 
For here I see your bodies' countenance 
That leers against me, stupid mouth ajar, 

[1] 



And there I see your clutching hands which stretch 
With boneless fingers, snatching at the wind. 

[He strikes.] 
Lo, how I cleft thee, shuddering breast and waist 
From formless nether-limbs ! Thy silly strength 
Is thistle-down that's harried by the storm. 
Or rain-drop's airy bubble threatening 
With tiny voice the clarion-mouthed sea. 
Give way, weak phantom-thoughts of impotence. 
Less real than clouded dreams that fall and break 
In splintered crystals of awakening. 
Grey-blooded, mirthless things that toss and fret, 
I drive you back before me, void and vain. 
[He disappears in the fog, cleaving with his sword 

the clouds which press in on every side. From 

the unseen background are heard three voices 

singing.] 

Song 

Children of the misty plain. 

Creatures wrought of cloud and rain. 

Shadowed phantoms of the brain 
Of the dreaming earth. 

Fade and vanish ! in the sun 

All your magic is undone. 

All your charmed webs unspun. 
Tangles little worth. 

Tattered shreds and wisps of grey 

By the breezes swept away, 

Smitten by the swords of day. 

[During the song the fog has begun to clear.] 

Fade and vanish, take you hence, 

Loose your revel, break your spell, 
[2J 



Crush the heaven's lightless shell ; 
Hidden in the magic well, 

Held enfettered by our thrall. 
Move no wing and stir no sense, 

Bide imprisoned till we call. 

[The fog has entirely cleared.] 

SCENE : A woodland pool, about which stand three 
maidens, the first of whom is young, the second 
in the mid of life, the third old, with grey- 
streaked hair. The trees show autumn leafage. 
Early morning. 

Gawaine 

What sprites are ye that weave a riddled song 
Whereby the very forces of the sky 
Are held enmeshed in sure obedience ? 

The Youngest 

Draw near and hearken to our speech. 
For we have wonders on our lips 

And work strange magic with our tongue. 

The Second 

On sable reef and golden beach 
By will of us sea-things and ships 
In wrack of wind and wave are flung. 

The Eldest 

The fingers of our fortune reach 

From moon to sun and work eclipse 

Whereby dead stars are fashioned young. 
[3] 



Gawaine 

What wild black speech is this of sun and star. 
And what have ye to do with ruined ships ? 
Are ye the devil's handmaids working grief 
Against the sunht ways of God ? 

The Eldest 

We guard : 
Ours is a sacred heritage. 

The Second 

We wait : 
Ours is a dark fulfilment. 

The Youngest 

We attain : 
For we are one with all that moves and is. 

Gawaine 

What ye attain I know not, why ye wait 

Is hidden till the waiting hour be done, 

And what ye guard I see not, yet am fain 

To snatch this knowledge from your flying speech 

As feather stricken from a fleeing bird. 

[He approaches the three.] 

The Second 

The plume that flutters down the tired wind 
Is not more idly grasped, nor with less toil 
Attained, than is the secret of our word. 

[4J 



Gawaine 

Is this a spring wherein fair water lies, 
Or but illusion's round, some silver gleam 
Caught up and pent within the hoop of night, 
A mirror wrought of nothing ? Nay, but here 
Is water welcome to the thirsty mouth ! 
I pray you by all holy thoughts and names 
Give me to drink ! Three days of wandering 
Have parched my lips and snapped my strength 
in twain. 

The Youngest 

The well of strange adventure : whoso drinks 
Shall fill the changing pages of his deeds 
With words of written wonder. 

Gawaine 

And the king 
Has nought of higher praise to give his knights 
Than this : " They sought adventure and attained." 
Give me to drink. Alone and without steed, 
Wearied with hunger, stricken with fatigue, 
I take upon me danger, toil, and strife. 
And drink adventure with an eager mouth ; 
For I am Gawaine, and of Arthur's court ! 

The Eldest 

Before that hour when over stony ways 
Thy steed was broken, never in the lists 
To run against the wind with nostrils wide 
Or stand again the shock of breaking spears, 

[5J 



Before, alone in wood and tangled glade, 
Thy feet strove sadly, seeking hermitage. 
We knew of Gawaine, dreaming he would come 
And beg a draught to quench his bitter thirst. 

Gawaine 
What tale is this ? Ye knew that I should come ? 

The Eldest 
Yea, 'twas our knowledge that this thing should be. 

Gawaine 

Beneath gold raiment lurks deceptive heart 
And too-great knowledge is a mask for ill. 
I fear you that are fair of face, and wise 
Beyond all proper wisdom of mankind. 
God and the devil's workers are alone 
In such foreknowledge. 

The Eldest 

Find no fear of us. 
This was a dream : we are beset with dreams. 
What faults of ours if they be always true ? 
We cannot guide our dreams, they are of God. 

The Second 

We are the warders of a deathless source. 
Draw near and drink, and have no further fear. 

The Youngest 
We give, yet give not save for gift's return. 

[6] 



Gawaine 
What will ye of me ? 

The Second 

That which all must give. 
Judgement between us of his true desire. 

Gawaine 

The shrouds of clinging words are yet undrawn. 
And deep enfolded lies the inner wish : 
I know not what ye say, nor what ye will. 

The Youngest 

No colours of strange magic hide our speech. 
The well of strange adventure : whoso drinks 
Shall choose between us whom his true desire 
Would make companion in the day of deeds. 

Gawaine 

Is this the price wherewith a draught is paid ? 
Small price and quickly given. Yet to choose 
Vexes the spirit with a running doubt 
That will not rest. 

The Youngest 

Nay, drink thy draught. 
And when the clamour of the hounds of thirst 
Has ceased above its quarry, and thy lips 
Are drinking in their long-sought sustenance. 
Perchance thy spirit's fire shall rise again 

[71 



Until the lamp of judgement shall be light 
Within thy mind, to cast its faultless shine 
Upon our waiting and release thy doubt. 

The Second 

Loosen thy helm and make of it thy bowl. 
Thy silver goblet dipping crystal wine. 

Gawaine 

The subtle threads of water twist and spin 
And will not be contained within a helm. 

The Second 
Nay, make thy trial. 

Gawaine 

If there be magic here, 
Perchance the helm will hold the dwindling weight ; 
Else is it vain. Yet let my hands essay 
What soul and body thirst for ; and ye streams 
Of shadowed water, lend your kindly aid. 
[He looses his helmet and dips it into the well until it 
is filled to the brim. He raises it to his lips, 
and, stooping above it, drinks long.] 
Through all the barren chambers of my soul 
There went the sound of music and a voice 
That woke the silence with a song of life ; 
And my own spirit sang. Through open doors 
Came breath of springtime, earth's awakening. 
The resurrection from the graves of sleep. 

[8] 



The Second 

Look down, look down : the water at thy feet 
Is troubled with the coming of a dream. 
[Gawaine bends over the well and stares into its 
depths.] 

Gawaine 

Wliat world of changing pageants here is hid ? 

Across the mirrored passage of the well 

Move bright processions, glittering array 

Of bannered knights and charging battle-fields. 

They shift like oil on silent rivers borne 

And blend quick colours caught from rainbow 

heights 
With gold and silver pride of broidered silks 
Precious beyond all treasured count of wealth. 

[He remains, staring spellbound.] 
The armies pass, and now again the sky 
Lies here reflected, and the shaded trees 
Bring silence with their canopy of green. 
There sped a swallow like a gleam of grey. 
And here the wind went laughing through the 

leaves. 
The magic show has passed. 

The Youngest 

It will renew. 
Some fuller vision draws across the depths. 

The Eldest 

What seest thou, O Gawaine ? for mine eyes 
Are not as are my sister's, keen to mark 

[91 



From farthest bounds the uttermost approach. 
And in quick vision versed ; yet mine retain 
Their memories, unfaded for all time. 

Gawaine 

An armoured knight in shameful wise is borne 
Bound to the belly of a drooping steed ; 
Three sorry knaves of little stature drag 
Th' unwilling bridle. Now the dream is passed. 
What sight was this ? what riddle of a world 
Where men are pictures on the water's shield. 
And things go by without our minds' control 
Like scattered dreams when body's maladies 
Assail the brain and make of it their toy ? 

The Youngest 

This is thy future : time's processional 
Moves ever through the water's mirrored depth. 
And he who drinks may gain a broken glimpse 
Within the endless change of shape and form 
AMierewith the false, illusive world of sense 
Doth clothe itself in unreality. 

Gawaine 

Am I that knight, in wretched manner bound ? 
Shall others drag me at their bridle's will ? 
Would I were slain in battle, ere such fate 
Had darkened all the splendour of my deeds 
And over all the glory of great wars 
And broken fields of battle cast a pall. 

flOl 



The Youngest 
My knight he is and loyally he serves. 
But let thine eyes and not thy lips demand 
Response : lean forth above the crystal flood 
And with keen search from \'isioned future pluck 
A present knowledge ; in those depths there lie 
The figures, shapes, and fashions of all things. 
Call forth again its magic pageantry, ■ 
And seek thy answer there. 

Gaw.vixe 

The depths are stirred. 
Light leaps from shadow, figures move and swaj- 
And gather into outhne fraught with life. . . . 
Unbound he lies, the horse vrith feet unmoved 
Crops short the herbage, triple caitiff knights 
Have laid their hands beneath him ; now they toil 
Across the gorse ; his helpless body hangs 
With legs and arms that strike against the ground 
In mimic eagerness and mock embrace. 
And here they move beyond the mirror's rim. 
And lo, myself, approaching on the hill ! . . . 
Dark ! . . . dark ! . . . more quick than sun 

before the storm. 
Or moon cloud-ridden, sped the light away. 
This water, gleaming with the shapes of men. 
Is now but water — 

The Second 

And therewith fulfils 
Thy thirst, and calls upon thee for thy word. 
That pledged reward, that choice between our hves. 

[11] 



Gawaine 

How ran your saying ? "Whoso drinks 

Shall choose among us her whom true desire 

Would make companion in the day of deeds." 

Fair are ye all : here lies no price to pay, 

But some reward, heav'n-sent to quench desire. 

Fair are ye all, and therein lurks the doubt : 

I choose the one, and straight the other two 

Neglected rankle, till a gaping wound 

Across my memory cries out regret, 

And lo, I know not whom my choice approves. 

Yet often, when our brains are still at fault. 

Still measuring confusion, weighing doubts. 

There wakens in our heart a sudden fire 

To guide the will and light the darkened thought. 

I pray you, therefore, be compassionate 

And find no evil in my words ; their fault. 

If fault they hold, set not against my charge. 

But lay their burden at the doors of Them 

Who fashioned men and gave them their desires. 

The Eldest 

To him that cries my name, I bring a gift 
Of wisdom greater than the strength of kings. 
Mine eyes have seen, through many a changing 

year. 
The circles of men's life revolve, return, 
Through birth and childhood unto age and death. 
My lips can tell thee tales and mysteries 
Of olden days when dragons held the earth 
And creatures of the slime were on the sea, 

fl21 



When men did battle in fierce, brutish wise 
And Hved in hollow caverns of the hills. 

Gawaine 

The past I love not : 'tis a murdered life, 
A corpse wherein the worms of memory cling. 
I like not tales, they haunt the present deed 
And make the sword-edge tremble with their 

dreams. 
The faltering spear-shaft snap within our hands. 

The Youngest 

But I am one who never felt the past 
Blow like the bitter wind from winter seas. 
For me the world is yet a dream unheard, 
A flower whose cup has never held the sun. 
Turn unto me and love me ; thou and I 
Shall guide anew the world, restore the right. 
And make of men a goodlier, nobler race. 

Gawaine 

There is nought certain in this world of change 
Save what our hands can grasp, our eyes behold ; 
All else is mockery of chance and time, 
A golden bauble, a deceptive lure, 
A sunlit rainbow seen across the clouds, — 
Draw nearer, there is nothing : mist and rain. 
And thou, fair maid upon the threshold caught 
With eager feet half ventured, half afraid. 
Thy promise is not yet fulfilment grown. 
Thine eyes are mirrors of a future world, 

[13] 



Foreboders of enchantment, giving view 
On womanhood and sweet matured dehghts. 
Still hidden, now, in virginal reserve. 

[He turns towards the Second IVIaiden.] 
But thou whose gaze is neither sad nor gay, 
Not sad for years behind thee taken flight. 
Nor gay with hope of pleasant days unseen. 
But full with knowledge of a present grace. 
Demanding not from future or from past, 
Secure within the fastness of thy ways. 
Thou art to me a token and a sign 
Of perfect womanhood's unyielding charm. 
For matchless adoration set apart. 
I choose thee for the mistress whom my spear 
Shall champion against the warring earth ; 
My sword shall bear thy name through cloven steel 
Of foeman's helm and reeling battle-shield ; 
And like a beacon shalt thou blaze and burn 
Above the lists, through cries of fallen men. 
To light me into battle, till I grasp. 
With victor's hand, th' unsteady plume of fame. 

The Second 

The choice is made, the choosing spirit bound ; 
The reed is cut, the spoken word is writ ; 
Closed lies the book ; already, many hands 
Are fashioning the unrelenting seal. 
The hour is here wherein thou shalt depart. 
In form invisible I come to guide 
Thy shifting purpose and uncertain will. 
Go forth and seek fulfilment from thy choice : 
Beyond this wood there lies the waiting world 

[141 



And many deeds therein, to do or spurn. 
Across the shifting picture of thy fate 
Lie sun and shadow of incessant change 
And nought of steadfast purpose under all 
Save me, in guise unseen, to lead thy hand 
From fortune into favour, love, and strife. 
Farewell, and fare as best such spirits may 
That choose my counsel ; theirs is but a life 
That mocks its own attainment, wrought in vain. 
[She bends over the well and speaks in incantation.] 

Veil the light : 

Hide the day ! 

Shadow and silence ! 

Dreamless sleep ! 
Spirits hidden in the well. 
Bound beneath a magic spell, 
Stirring neither limb nor sense 
In an idle impotence, 
Rise against the glaring day. 

Spreading sable shrouds and dun, 
Cover earth and sky with grey ; 

Cast your veils against the sun ! 
[As she speaks, the light gradually wanes. From the 
well a fine mist begins to rise.] 

Gawaine 

By sorcery accursed I stand agape 
Nor stretch a thwarting hand to break the spell. 
Were I a cliff, a thousand ages old. 
Or gnarled pine deep-rooted in the rock, 
I could not stand more idly, nor endure 

[15] 



More helpless in the surging front of ill. 
[The mist grows ever heavier, until a dense fog, ris- 
ing from the well, has covered the entire stage.] 

The Three Maidens [singing] 

Damp and mist and heavy vapour, 

Shrouded fog and dripping cold, 
Quench the sunlight's fallen taper. 

Hide away the flame of gold. 
Out of pond and becken cool. 

Out of well and fountain head, 
Out of tree-enshadowed pool 

Where the autumn leaves lie dead. 
Where no deer with frightened feet 
Ever leapt in terror fleet. 

Out of marshy river bed 
Where no forest creature drank. 

Out of swamp and fen arisen, 

Break your bonds and loose your prison. 
Water vapours, grey and dank ! 

[The fog has completely hidden everything. The 
singing voices have drifted ever further and 
further away, until at last the song dies in the 
distance. A long silence follows. For several 
minutes the stage remains grey and void. At 
last the fog begins to clear.] 



[16] 



ACT ONE 

SCENE: A wild upland open to the sky. Hill- 
slopes with scattered firs. The ground is 
covered with gorse-bushes, knee-high, in golden 
bloom. The last shreds of fog drift off over the 
moors to the left and vanish, revealing far-away 
the gleaming towers of the Castle of Etarre. 
Full morning. Avran, Balarin, and Maris 
stand above the helpless body of Pelleas. 

Avran 

Enough of drudge and drag : here let him He. 
The pricking gorse has played an eager bride 
And clapped him close in her unwelcome arms. 

Balarin 

A weary work fulfilling punishment ! 
Too often in the scourger's thankless toil 
The swinging lash flies back, and with shrewd blow 
Assails th' inflicting hand : so is't with us, 
Who strain against yon living weight of mail 
With bloodless fingers, and with stumbling feet* 
Through country-side accurst scarce feel our way; 
Small glory have we got us therewithal. 
This is our fame : to counter with a knight 
c [17] 



Who will not lift his spear against our shields, 
A mad-cap creature in whose brain there sits 
The bird of folly. Truth, a mighty task. 

AVRAN 

And here, within the growing heat of morn, 
We come like serfs in secret burial. 
Dragging a living corpse beneath the sky. 
Enough, enough ! this is no food for knights ; 
Our very horses would revolt the taste 
And eye their masters with a keen disdain. 

Maris 

There is a feast which no knight may refuse 

If he be bid to table ; all that owe 

Allegiance to an overlord must eat 

The meat of service, drink the willing wine 

Of fealty, whereby true knighthood lives. 

You know from whom you draw your honour's 

strength ; 
She laid upon us bond of her commands 
And bade us from the belly of his steed 
Unbind this knight and over briar and thorn 
Drag out his body till the breath be faint : 
So should his courage vanish like a dream. 
And that mad frequency of his desire 
Be staid to abstinence. Up ! drag him on. 

AvRAN 

Then snare the sun and strangle out its heat. 
Go, draw cool shadows out of distant trees 
And wake the winds that sleep upon the hills. 

[18] 



Balarin 

Call back our bodies' breath that's taken flight 
At sight of labour, like a bonded wretch. 

Maris 
Then let him lie, and heaven rest his soul. 

Balarin 

The mighty Pelleas, the rumoured knight 
Well proven in the midmost toil of war. 
How fares he now, the hero of the lance. 
The champion such as men have never seen ? 

Avran 

In curious wise beneath the open sun 

He dreams of battle, while the springing gorse 

Grows up unheard around his silent helm. 

Balarin 

But when his bruised limbs have found the balm 
Of first recovery, he'll rise and seek 
To draw the shattered ships of his emprise 
To greater battles over windier deeps. 

Avran 

'Twere well to slay him here and quench his soul. 
Else will the spirit that indwells his breast 
Grow wings once more and fly above our heads 
Like loosened hawk against the fleeing hare. 

[19] 



Maris 

We may not slay him, tho' 'twere mercy's hand 
Which dealt that stroke. 

AVRAN 

Then will he, like a midge, 
In vast persistence make our lives a curse 
Of tiny wounds and quick annoyances. 

Maris 

'Twill prove him small avail to prick and sting : 
The midge, if he return too often, learns 
That wings so small can yet be clipped and crushed 
And tiny body caught and buffeted. 

AvRAN 

'Twere well to hold it longer to its cage ; 
Yet here it has its freedom and the world 
Wherein to fly abroad, and lo, it lies 
Ungrateful, without sign of thanks or praise. 
Fly warrior, we salute thee ! Noisy gnat. 
Midge of the marshes, fare thee well ! 

Balarin 

All hail. 
Chit-sparrow ; sit i' the bush and braggart sing ; 
O valiant bird ! O wren with eagle's soul ! 
An owl that flies in daytime without eyes. 
[Balarin and Avran depart across the hill. Maris 
follows, but hesitates and turns hack.] 
[20] 



Maris [standing above the body of Pelleas] 

Too many times, far, far too many times 

In this same outcome of the selfsame deed 

Have we prevailed above you, dragged you off. 

Railed over you and spoken out our curse 

Of bitterness against your foolish ways 

And ears forever thirsting for abuse. 

Too many times our lips have brewed this draught 

And mixed the gall of laughter with farewell, 

A honeyed mead in truth, a stirrup cup 

To speed you in your folly. Change your ways ! 

But if you fall once more within our hands, 

Expect no better fare from us, nor yet 

From her that sent us, whom your seeking eyes 

Shall never look upon again. 

[Pelleas moves slightly.] 

Pelleas 

Etarre ! 

Maris 

Yes, 'tis Etarre ! the one sweet word forlorn 
That lies upon your lips like magic seal, 
Like stroke of sorcery and mystic spell 
Awak'ning fever in your blood and brain 
That iron may not chill, nor dungeon tame ! 

[He goes off. Silence.] 

Pelleas [moaning] 

O world ! O disillusion ! 

[In a sudden passionate outburst] 
[21] 



Black despair, 
Come, cover me with all the shrouds of night ! 
[Silence. Fergus, attendant on Pelleas, comes 
over the hill to the right.] 

Fergus 
I marked them how they stood upon this hill 
In final converse of an evil deed, 
Here, here upon these trackless, silent slopes 
Within the yellow reaches of the gorse 
Lies Pelleas on prison-bed of thorns, 
Bound with the glowing fetters of the sun. 
O misery, that in his mind should dwell 
Submission unto knaves, the lowered shaft. 
The sunken sword, the battle void and thin. 
Alas the name that rang in other days ! 
The knight whose deeds dwelt ever on the lips 
Of others' praises — how with single hand 
He smote the robbers of the woods and hills 
With keen destruction — how within the lists 
His spear was fire, a gathered shaft of light. 
His battle-cry the voices of the storm. 
And now his name is overset with growth 
Of dark abuse and shameful calumny. 
And those that should have reeled and sunk to 

earth 
In red disaster and dark swoon of sense. 
These, even these, mean varlets, thieves, and 

rogues, 
Drag Pelleas through upland gorse and way 
And throw him like a carcase for the birds ! 

[He casts about him in the gorse.] 
[221 



In vain : in vain. Oh, would that eyes were 

made 
To pierce the barriers which hide their goal, 
Or cleave like lightning in a darkened sky, 
Bringing their own fierce strength wherewith to 

see. 
Here, somewhere here, he lies in bitterness 
With broken mail and battered helmet thrown, 
A useless tool discarded from the hands 
Of little workers fashioning misdeeds. 
Etarre ! Etarre ! accursed beauteous face 
That shines like fire of madness in his eyes 
And makes his courage falter like a flame ; 
Etarre ! Etarre ! from heaven's utmost height 
May God's unfailing anger strike you down 
And burn that body like a blackened tree ! 
May you be fire engulfed with water-floods. 
May you be embers smouldered into death. 
May you be ashes blown across the air ! 
I hate you ! who are poison in my lips ; 
Within my mouth your name runs like a curse, 
A thing to rail against with tongue and teeth. 

[He comes upon Pelleas.] 
O mighty master — fallen, fallen, fallen. 
See, I am here, your servant, nigh at hand 
To raise you up, to loose your helm and mail 
And with fresh water lave your sunken eyes 
And wet your thirsty lips and cheeks and hair. 

[Pelleas moves slightly, groaning.] 
Midway between the waking sense he swoons. 
Ah, master, fallen master, turn and speak ! 



[231 



Pelleas 

Leave me. Depart. I have no wish for you. 
Go, bring me death to minister my needs. 

Fergus 

Death's a false friend, a thief within your tents ; 
He'll stab you in your slumber. Cast him out ! 
[Fergus has been stooping above Pelleas. He 

busies himself in loosening the armour while he 

speaks.] 

Pelleas 
I'll have no other servant : bring me death. 

Fergus [loosening the helmet] 

Death's a grim army laying endless siege 
Against the living fortress of the soul. 
Endure, endure ; beat back the pressing foe, 
Lift up again your shield above the walls 
In stern defiance. See, I raise you up. 

Pelleas [in Fergus' arms] 

Leave me, ah, leave me here. My broken strength 
Is fainter than a sunset wind, my mind 
Is dry and empty. — Do not make me live, 
But leave me, leave me here ; Etarre — 
I saw her not, nor heard her voice, nor felt 
Her anger go across me like a rain. 
God knows, such rain were welcome to my lips ! 
Her anger is more sweet than other's praise, 

[241 



Her voice is like a wind within the grain, 
A moving swell of wave-like melody. 

Fergus [raising Pelleas to his feet] 

Her voice is like the winter moon half seen 
Across the other shoulder, magical — a curse ! 

Pelleas 

Have you come hither mocking at my grief, 

To cry before me words against Etarre 

And prick my sorrow into festered rage ? 

No, leave me, leave me : what avails your heed ? 

I may not look upon her eyes again ! 

She will not see me, will not grant me speech ; 

Her wretched knights perform her word afar. 

And cast me from her. Oh, world, world. 

What cruelty there lies within your breast 

To poison all the milk whereat we suck ! 

We are the children of your hate, conceived 

In some dark moment of false passion, born 

In anguish of repentance, things accursed 

For whom you have no mother-love, no care, 

No joy if we be happy, no regret 

If we be clothed in sorrow and in grief. 

Fergus 

Each man, if he be strong, can take the world 
Within the grasping hollows of his hand 
And shape anew the image of his will. 
There is no knight of all this country wide 

[251 



Can sit his steed unshaken in the lists 

Against your onset, none that can maintain 

A helm unshorn, and armour unassailed. 

What runes are carven by an evil hand 

Within the iron of your spirit ? Wake, 

Throw off the clutch of sleep, the grasp of dreams, 

And blow the wraith of magic into mist 

Of idle vapour. Ah, if I were you. 

My lance should smite the laughter of your foes. 

My wrath should strike them like an angry sea, 

My vengeance scatter them like autumn leaves ! 

Ride, ride against them ! Snap their strength in 

twain ! 
Go like a curse across this evil land 
And leave behind you weeping in the halls 
And wail of women seeking 'mid the slain 
For their departed lords : and she, the shining 

snake 
That sits enfolded in your changed heart. 
She, even she, whose castle holds these lands, 
Etarre, the witch of evil, let her die 

Pelleas 

What, is your service changed to blackest gall ? 
Is all your heart tormented like your speech 
With envious canker ? O ungrateful task 
To lift from earth the children of the dust 
And give the toiling creatures of the plough 
High freedom in a servitude of love. 
Nay, who shall give the oxen of the field 
The battle-steed's high temper, who shall place 

[26] 



A soul within the body of a slave. 

And waken knighthood stifled in the serf ? 

Fergus 
With no sweet ointment of forgiving love 
Will I anoint the heads of those that feed 
Their starving wits on hatred and foul thoughts. 
To them that do you wrong I bear one love, 
The love to see their naked bodies hang 
From windy branches, and their vulture necks 
Engirdled with the swaying, clinging noose. 

Pelleas 
God grant you never set your feet within 
The holy circle of knighthood ! — Take me hence. 
For I will wait until my body's harm 
Be grown to match my soul's serenity. 
The high security of my resolve. 
Then shall I find me other ways to seek 
My lady's favour, win her angry heart 
To softer mood of loving. 

Fergus 

Yet your words 
Are greater than your strength. How would you 

walk 
Through upland gorse and rough unlevelled way ? 
I cannot bear you far, tho' I am fain 
My back should seek the burden. 

Pelleas 

Search and say 
If with your eyes you mark my loosened steed 

[27] 



Among the heather ranging ; for they came 
And bore me bound thereto. You see him not ? 
Go, search the distance with quick feet and bring 
Him hither straight ; he has not wandered far. 

Fergus 

Rest here in quiet till I come again 
And wait in patience for my sure return. 

[He departs.] 
[Pelleas stands staring before him in silence.] 

Pelleas 

I would I were as changeless as the sun 
Who sinks each day into the nether-mist 
And on the morrow mounts above the dawn 
In light undimmed ; but I with shaken soul 
Survey the darkness, and with faltering step 
Go down into the countries of the night, 
Not knowing if within another East 
My eyes shall look upon the risen day. 
All, all is dark : the hell-pits of despair 
Gape ever at my feet. Where leads the way 
That brings me to the daylight of her eyes, 
The dawn which is her presence, and the world 
Which is her body's grace, her beauty's orb 
Of circled wonder ? Barred and double barred ! 
There is no oaken shaft can break this port. 
No twisted hook to catch the bolt aside. 

[Silence.] 
O serene sun, alone and pitiless. 
How mocking is the glitter of thy beams ! 

[28] 



Meseems thou art the laughter of the world 
Made visible, contemptuous disdain 
Wherewith all nature frames the race of man. 
O shadow stretched before me on the ground, 
What thing art thou, with what fidelity 
Art thou my steadfast comrade ? Is't thy wish 
That binds thee, or a dread necessity ? 
Art thou my soul, an unsubstantial thing 
Knit to me while the sun of life shall last ? 
The sun's a mockery, and life a lure ! 
Go ! I release thee from thy servitude ; 
Thou canst not love me who am no man's friend. 
Here in the world I stand alone. Go forth, 
My soul, my shadow ; seek a happier land 
And leave this wretched body to fulfil 
Unequal combat with a grudging fate 
And so go down to death, all purposeless. 

[He becomes aware of Gawaine approaching.] 
What knight is this that stands upon the hill ? 
Is this some foe to plague my restless life. 
Some novel torment wrought against my love ? 
He moves alone, an armoured knight, afoot 
Within these reaches of untrodden wild. 
How came he here ? Why moves he without 

steed 
In painful toil beneath his armour's press ? 

[Gawaine enters.] 

Gawaine 

Long have I sought you, wayfaring alone. 
In visionary speech with three, I gained 
Strange knowledge and strange biddings to fulfil. 

[291 



Pelleas 
Knight, if on wrathful deed your steps be turned, 
Let not your pride so wander from its ways 
That it o'erstride itself and seek the dark 
Of high self-confidence and vaunting word. 
Fulfil your bidding, add your little stroke 
Of evil action, yet at heart know well 
By no necessity of fallen strength 
I yield my honour to your lesser sword. 

Gawaine 
You shall not find the hungry bird of hate 
Upon my shield engraven, with fierce claws 
Tearing the world asunder. 

Pelleas 

Are you not 
Of them that loathe me at my lady's will 
And their own coward hearts' high jealousy ? 

Gawaine 
I am of Arthur's court. I come in need 
To succour knighthood, as our king enjoins 
Upon the glorious order of his knights. 
I know not who you are nor with what wrong 
Pent up by men's ill-will and jealous hate. 
Yet three there were who spoke in visioned speech 
And by their power on heaven's high elements 
Conveyed me hither. 

Pelleas 
O beloved sound. 
The speech of knighthood in this wretched land, 

[301 



The light of honour risen in the dark 

Of shameless men and unrepentant deeds! 

Pelleas I am : my spear has held the prize 

In many tourneys made in many lands. 

Much have I heard and loved your noble king. 

The name of Arthur is a silver star 

Of truth and equity ; in faultless strength 

The sword of chivalry gleams there aloft, 

A vision unto men, a creed for faith. 

Gawaine 
And I am Gawaine, of the king's high court, 
Come hither from the walls of Camelot. 
The fame of Pelleas has pierced the dark 
Of distance, with the light of far renown 
For tourney's wreath, and battle's blameless meed. 
Our noble order knows no nobler knight. 
What fateful force of men iniquitous 
Or deed self-willed has brought you, armed and lone. 
To stand upon the broom's flower-gilded heights 
And gaze across the stretch of wind and sun 
On warring wastes where no man's hand is set 
Compulsive o'er unwilling growth of fields ? 

Pelleas 
Alas, this tale runs back among the years 
And far beyond the present sight attains 
Its first awakening. 

Gawaine 
Yet would I hear. 
I seek adventure and I strive to bring 
Knighthood's redemption into creedless lands. 

[31] 



Pelleas 

One word there is, which shuts and opens wide 

The doors of all my deeds and all my thoughts : 

It is a sign wherewith to clothe my soul 

In courage linked from bright security ; 

It is a charmed ring, a circled rune, 

A treasure-stone of wizardry — Etarre ! 

Gawaine 

The name I know not, but am fain to hear 

This mystic potency, enfolded deep 

W ithin a word's soft-sounding innocence. 

Pelleas 

If you would hear, and track the winding speech 
Through courts of men and castles set anigh, 
I have no need to hide on lying lips 
The truth wherefrom my knighthood gets its 

shame. 
So hearken : — in the eager days long since, 
I know not how far back, for memory stands 
In helpless failure at the count of time 
So wretched and so slow to drag away, 
Perhaps ten years are flown, enough to fill 
A stripling youth's advance to manly state, — 
Long time, long time, how long ago it seems — 

Gawaine 

Nay, well I know the adverse wind of fate 
Clouds all the backward years and hides the sun 
Of memory in a grey f orgetf ulness ; 

[32] 



The past becomes a lost and distant land 
WTiere once we moved and shall not move again. 
But for yom* story. — Speak, and tell the tale. 

Pelleas 
Magic of forge and steel and crucible 
Had wrought a sword ; by whose hand, no one 

knew; 
'Twas thought the workers of the hills had steeped 
Their fires in incantation and had made 
This sword to be a gift to mortal child, 
A king's son of the western isles, who died. 
Golden the hilt, alight with ruddy glow ; 
Thereon engraved, in token of its gift, 
*'The son of Ork. Be strong and hold me fast." 
Now, when the king's son died, his father called 
A mighty tourney in the land and set 
This sword as guerdon to the winning arm. 
And many came and made their name be cried 
Within the tourney, and King Arthur's knights 
Were gathered, ten or twelve, and Kay was there 
(Him whom they call the Seneschal), Sir Tor, 
And many others. So the joust was made. 
Great ladies, queens and nobly born, beheld ; 
And one there was whose eyes were like a fire 
Within my heart, and ever as I strove 
Her beauty shone about me like a star, 
And in mine ears I heard a crying voice. 
And felt a throbbing of unmeasured strength 
Which of my body made its minister 
To triumph in the tourney. So I fought. 
And over all prevailed. 

D [33] 



Gawaine 

Then are you grown 
A giant from the strength of lesser men ; 
The hard-wrought prowess of each vanquished 

name 
Like hound that changes master comes to you 
To aid you in the quest for fame, and swell 
The cry of hunting. 

Pelleas 

In my hands they set 
The tourney's meed, the gleaming hilt of gold 
That clasped the flash of steel ; upon my head 
A golden circlet clung. And I, forthwith, 
Rode down the lists, and passed with heedless eyes 
The ranged queens, and at the shining feet 
Of one more fair than kingly daughter cast 
The golden circle, royal crown of love 
And adoration ; but with mocking hands 
She flung it from her, high above the heads 
Of those who sat about her, that it fell 
Within the dust and turmoil of the lists. 
And many there cried out with jealous speech 
And wrought her shame, until I made be known 
That I would prove her every act and word 
Against their gathered spears : thereat they ceased. 

Gawaine 

Strange tale it is, yet not too hard to read. 
She loved a lesser knight and with sure strength 
Spurned proffered homage of his vanquisher. 

[34] 



Pelleas 

Nay, in that quiet heart of hers there beats 

No blood of passion. Dark indifference 

With sluggish stream mounts ever in her veins. 

Gawaine 
What came of this ? 

Pelleas 

Into her rightful land 
I followed her ; and there I still abide. 
Against the sky of my desires and deeds 
There stands, with distant battlements agleam, 
The castle of Etarre, undimmed, unchanged. 
While over me the seasons spend their wrath 
And men work out their hate ; yet I prevail. 

Gawaine 
What brought you here alone and without steed ? 

Pelleas 
The hands of men across the thorny wild. 

Gawaine 
In anger, or by your own spoken wish ? 

Pelleas 
In anger done, yet by another's will. 

Gawaine 

Why seek to hide the need ? Within a glass 
I saw a knight whom other three unbound 

[35] 



Prom belly of a steed, and with rude strength 
Dragged far across the barren fields of gold. 

Pelleas 
Ah, I am shamed forever in your sight 

Gawaine 

True knighthood never sleeps with naked shame, 
And though he share her hovel leaves therein 
No children of ill fame. Your courage shines 
Through all the shrouds of dark ignominy. 
Pure spirits cannot err. 

Pelleas 

O noble creed, 
That brings the eye to witness, not to judge 
Ask what you will. 

Gawaine 

I ask your present need. 
And give you service of my sword and spear. 

Pelleas 

Strength will not ease the tightened cord of hate, 
'Tis drawn too high above an earthly reach. 

Gawaine 

The sword of courage and the spear of truth 
May yet avail. Who were these wretched three 
And by what order moved ? 

[361 



Pelleas 

The self-same word : 
It is a light for knowledge. 

Gawaine 

Speak ! Etarre ? 
And is it she who brings you into wrong ? 

Pelleas 

Because I may not live sans sight of her 

I ride against her knights in mimic fray 

And suffer them to make me prisoner 

That I may come before my lady's eyes 

To look upon her countenance and hear 

The wonder of her speech. In wrath alway 

She cries against me and commands her knights 

To cast me into dungeon or to set 

The brand of shame across my fallen shield 

Gawaine 
Were these her men that wrought you this despite ? 

Pelleas 

Her will through others moving, cast me here. 
And now the last sweet flower of hope is dead, 
Trod under by her foot. The autumn grows 
And winter creeps along the leafless cold, 
With mortal fingers plucking branch and twig 
And blowing harsh against the feeble strength 
Which is the life of man and beast and flower. 
My hope is dead ; I shall not see it more. 

[37] 



Gawaine 

If hope through snow and chill of winter love 
Has ever blossomed in your heart, and spread 
Its balm of perfume through your wounded soul, 
'Twill reach its flower once more against the 

sky 
To catch the sunlight in its chaliced cup 
And nurture trustless sorrow into confidence. 

Pelleas 

This is the last ; beyond this utmost bound 

Nought further lies : love, life, all, all at end ! 

She will not suffer me her presence' grace. 

But strikes me from afar with other hands. 

To-day, I saw her not ; her worthless knaves 

Fulfilled her final anger, bringing word 

More bitter than their curses and their blows. 

"O fool," they said, "our lady whom we serve 

Bids us to tell you that until she die 

She will not look upon your loathed form 

Nor hear your wretched pleading." So they 

spoke. 
And dragged me hither with full jest and jeer. 
Accurst be all the forces in me pent 
That out of shattered body, darkened brain. 
Build up anew the empery of life. 
The realm which I must rule, unwilling king 
Of citizens that hold me prisoner 
Within the palace of my self. Have end, 
O dreadful powers working in the dark ; 
Have end, and let me die ! 

[38] 



Gawaine 

Nay, live, and love ! 
Or if you may not love, then hate ; but live ! 
Life is a present moment, a shifting point 
That moves from nothing into nothing ; where it is, 
There is the world, the beating pulsing world 
With all its marvel of a felt design. 
Stretch out your hand and snare the fleeting point ; 
Then have you all the world within your grasp. 
Live, live, and I will aid you in your quest. 

Pelleas 

What can you do ? For many a month and year 
I dreamed that love would waken in her breast. 
A fool, I dreamed that mortal will could guide 
Love the immortal. Love the uncompelled, — 
From impious effort gaining due reward. 
Sadness of heart, bruised limbs, and shattered faith. 

Gawaine 

Is there no gentler word which I may speak ? 
May I not plead before her, win her heart 
To softer ways and kindlier moods ? 

Pelleas 

In vain. 

Gawaine 

May I not say she has misjudged, has scorned 
That which no queen may purchase with her crown, 
A lover's worship, gift of gifts ? 

[39] 



Pelleas 

In vain. 

Gawaine 

Then let us find some subtler web to catch 

Her fleeting love and bring it to your lips. 

If she be mortal, she shall yet be yours ; 

If pity stir within her, let us make 

A staff of pity ; if within her dwell 

A woman's worship of high deeds and thoughts. 

Then let us make high thoughts and deeds our 

scrip 
To help us in our quest ; if fear of death 
Live in her body, death shall be our shoon 
Wherewith to walk ; if dreams of love 
E'er stir the curtains of her sleep, then love 
Shall be a cloak and clothe us from the rain. 
Pity, high deeds, and love, and fear of death. 
Shall be to us cloak, shoon, and scrip, and staff, 
And from her we'll get alms. 

Pelleas 

In vain ! in vain ! 
You would with naked strength and covered wiles 
Beget from hatred tears, from loathing love. 
I tell you, not with open pomp and power 
Love enters in. There is a world unseen 
Wherein our passions live, and come and go 
When no eye marks them. In the world of sense 
Our words and deeds have puissance, and the earth 
Trembles before our coming ; blown with pride 
We stretch our sceptres toward that other world 

[40] 



And lo, the wand whereat earth's kingdoms shook 
Stands idle in our hand, a gilded stem. 

Gawaine 

And yet Etarre shall love you ; grief and fear 
Are masters of the soul, and work their will. 
Love is their servant ; they but clap their hands 
And he appears. Give me your knighthood's trust 
And by my knighthood's faith I swear to you, 
Etarre shall love you. 

Pelleas 

mistaken creed ! 
Is love a hound that walks within the leash ? 
Too long, too long in folly I maintained. 
Seeking to win her love. Love comes not thus. 
We know not when nor wherefore, we have seen 
No shadow fall across our steps, nor heard 
His mystic footfall ; yet we raise our eyes 
And lo, he stands before us, garbed in white. 
Triumphant, with a light upon his brows. 

Gawaine 

Nay, call him and he'll come, a willing slave. 
God gave him unto men, that men might be. 
Hearken and heed : your shield and helm and 

sword 
Shall change with mine. So armed, and with a 

steed. 
Will I approach the castle where Etarre 
Holds state aloof. 

[411 



Pelleas 

What then ? She'll love me more 
Because you hold my arms ? 

Gawaine 

Nay, hate you less. 
Death breaks in twain the stubborn plant of 

wrath 
And treads to earth its growth and jealous fruit ; 
He lays his finger on the lips of hate, 
And anger stands with saddened eyes downcast 
Before his presence. In the camps of war 
He binds proud nations with a chain of tears. 
And with a mound of earth builds emperies. 
Etarre shall hear my words of bitter weal 
And think you dead. Thereat her brow will 

change 
And all her nature be suffused with grief ; 
Th' unshaken headland of her wrath shall sink 
Within a sea of tears. With sudden ray 
Illumined, she shall see life's large expanse 
Move like a landless ocean, vast and void. 
So will her heart be caught with sudden love 
And she shall hate me, and against my name 
Cry murderer. Her body's burning light 
Shall languish in the sable cloth of grief. 
Affliction's gloomy cloak ; her cheek shall pale 
With wan reflection, like the moon that broods 
Too much upon the splendour of the sun. 
Then will I cry her pardon of my fault. 
Confess you living, till the glad blood leap 
Through all her veins and mantle in her brow. 

[42] 



She shall give thanks to Heaven's holy power 
That held you safe ; to all, she shall proclaim 
You loved and dear ; and she shall bid me go 
To seek you out and bring you to her arms. 

Pelleas 

So, with the breath of falsehood you would blow 
Love, like a wooden vane that points the wind ? 
The gust of truth will veer it straight once more ! 

Gawaine 

The winds must change ; the north must yield to 

south, 
The breath of snow be melted by the spring. 
And hate must falter at undoubting love. 
Give me your shield and sword, and let me fare. 

Pelleas 

Shall love's high course be furthered by deceit. 
Blessed by false words and hastened by false wiles. 
And crooked path lead straighter to the goal ? 

Gawaine 

Yet paths that cannot scale a naked cliff 
May find soft slopes to guide a sure ascent 
On other sides. What matter for the turn ? 
Give me your shield and sword, and let me fare. 

Pelleas 

I will not. 'Tis by other ways I seek 
To win to her pure truth and faultless love. 

[43] 



Gawaine 

Are you a fisher who with straining net j 
Enmeshes ocean prey, and at the last 
When silver fishes struggle in his grasp 
Throws back his booty to the waiting sea ? 
The years with eyes of pity have looked down 
Upon you, and in restless flight o'erhead 
Paused for a moment with a prophecy 
Of other years to come. 

Pelleas 

And now ? 

Gawaine 

And now 
The time is here with open-handed gift. 
And you would spurn it ! Oh, how vain are 

thoughts ! 
They have no more reality than mist 
Which sunlight scatters : 'tis the deed that is. 
Three days, and you shall lie within the clasp 
Of golden arms and hear from burning lips 
Love's true confessional, the marriage night. 
Will you then doubt she loves you? Will you 

smite 
Her mouth and call her lips a liar's tool 
And cast her from you ? What shall matter then 
The means whereby we strove and wrought, and 

gained 
This loved reality, this goal of all your thoughts ? 
If she be brought to love you, then she loves. 
And on it there's no doubt. 

[44] 



Pelleas 

But in my heart 
Doubt raises tumult like an angry sea. 

Gawaine 
A stormless sky shall lay its waves at rest. 
Etarre shall love you, by my word and truth ! 

Pelleas 

fond belief, that wings the heart 
As feathers to a bird new-born 
Wherewith to leave the nest of pain 
And seek the lands of gold ! 

Give me your oath of knightly faith 
That you are herald in this act. 
Not wooer. 

Gawaine 

For that jealous word 

1 give you pardon. 

[He stretches out his hands and touches Pelleas' 
sword.] 

Hilt and bar and blade 
Be record of my oath ; sunlight and wind 
Maintain it ; honour keep it fast. I swear 
By Arthur's knighthood shining in the skies 
Of false enchantment and black cowardice. 
If I be found unfaithful, changeful, false. 
May my bare throat feel this unsheathed blade, 
May I be cast for ever from the light ! 

Pelleas 
Across despair's black-vaulted firmament 
Your words have moved refulgent like a star 

[45] 



Which angels hurl from heaven to guide men's 

steps 
On stormy nights through treacherous foul ways. 
Words lie too lightly on the lips of man 
That I with words could thank you. 

[He loosens his helm.] 
Take my helm. 
And here my shield. 

Gawaine 
The sword — ? 

Pelleas 

I cannot give. 
"Be strong and hold me fast," so runs the rune. 
Through dungeon keep, through false defeat, foul 

hands, 
And knaves' dark roguery, the rhyme has wrought ; 
Unharmed the sword abides. Take shield and 

helm. 
Therefrom the tale has evidence enough. 

[Fergus appears over the hill.] 
And here at time's full flood my servant comes. 
Called by the present need, — and yet, alone ; 
Wherein our need is desolate. He went 
To seek a mount, yet comes with empty zeal. 
[Fergus at sight of Gawaine stops, alarmed. Re- 
assured by Gawaine's attitude and bearing, he 
advances.] 

Gawaine 

Armed and afoot, I cannot far proceed. 
Yon castle on the deep horizon's rim 

[46] 



Beckons and nods with greeting from afar 
In vain civility. Stands nowhere nigh 
Some hermitage whence I may find a steed ? 

Pelleas 

My man-at-arms knows well this waste of land. 
He shall inform us. [To Fergus] So, in idle 

quest 
You sought ? 

Fergus 

Sir Pelleas, the steed I found. 
He waits beyond the slant of yonder rise. 

Pelleas 

What mock of service have you hid herein ? 
I bade you lead him hither. 

Fergus 

How ? with wings ? 
He cannot mount the sudden sheer ascent ; 
But thither I can bear you, where he waits. 

Pelleas 
Then thither lead Sir Gawaine. 

Fergus 

Shall he ride 
And you remain ? 

Gawaine 

Shall squires-at-arms protest 
When knights hold counsel ? 

[47] 



Fergus 

Good sir knight, oft time 
The fool's hid wisdom guides the king aright. 
The jester's bells sit steadier than the crown. 
I guard my lord and master from deceit. 

Pelleas 

I pray you pardon him, a faithful servant. 
Who errs too much in serving and in faith. 

[To Fergus] 
Sir Gawaine goes to plead before Etarre, 
And win me favour. 

Fergus 

Favour in love's cause 
Is not a ring to slip on other's hand. 
The pleader pleads but for himself. 

Gawaine 

O vile, 
O base earth-born, were you my serving man 
Red stripes should leap across your quivering 

back; 
The dogs should laugh at you and loll their 

tongues 
To see you lower fallen than themselves ! 

Pelleas 

Sir Gawaine, pardon. Much adversity, 
On me descended, has made dark his mind. 
He probes forever in suspicious depths, 

[48] 



And where he thinks to find an enemy. 
His very soul drips poison and his words 
Are but the distillations of his thoughts. 
The gathered fumes and acids of his brain. 
He shall repent and serve you loyally. 

Gawaine 

Then let me go forthwith and seek the steed. 

And so depart. My helm and shield I leave 

In pledged exchange. When twice the sun has set 

And twice arisen, messenger shall come 

And bid you to the castle of Etarre. 

Till then, farewell. 

Pelleas 

God speed the ventured aim. 

Fergus 

And you, O master, what of you alone. 
Wearied and hungered on the shadeless hills ? 

Pelleas 

Go seek for me from distant hermitage 
Another steed. By sun-down be returned 
And bear me hence at last. 

Gawaine 

Farewell. 

Pelleas 

Farewell. 
[Fergus and Gawaine depart.] 
E [49] 



Pelleas 

[alone, watching the two move across the brow of 

the hill] 
So fare, my heart's adventure, so fare well. 

CURTAIN 



[50] 



ACT TWO 

SCENE: A room in the Castle of Etarre. 
Tapestries upon the walls. The late afternoon 
sun streams in through a solitary window. Its 
shaft of light falls full upon Etarre, who sits 
before a loom set in a recess. She is working 
at a tapestry, now nearly finished. A maid, 
AiLEEN, attends her. 

Etarre 

And one more colour to enrich his crest. 
Shall it be scarlet ? 

Aileen 

Would not blue lie well ? 

Etarre 

It shall be scarlet. He shall flash and burn 
Like dew sun-kindled with a thousand sheens. 
Where hangs the scarlet thread ? 

Aileen 

Here at the wing 
From this last dripping stain. 

[51] 



Etarre 

The sun a-mist 
On autumn afternoons so stains the world ; 
A noble colour for a crested plume. 

AlLEEN 

Yet blue were softer. 

Etarre 

You are bitten deep 
With this sea-madness ; in your own blue eyes 
Nought's fair that is not blue. 

AlLEEN 

The world's a-drip 
With red and crimson, or you like it not. 

Etarre 

But, look you, I have reason in my choice, 

For red's the fairer colour. There is nouglit so 

brave 
As scarlet banners or a crimson sky. 

AlLEEN 

For them that like it. But the blue of streams 
On summer afternoons 'neath summer skies 
Gladdens my heart with deep and pure content. 

Etarre 

And one lone spray of hooded red in flower 
Cries louder than the murmur of your streams, 

[52] 



The quiet of your skies. They are fancy-poor 
Who love not red. 

AlLEEN 

And false of heart 
Who love not blue. 

[Sings.] 
Love came to me in kirtle red, 
(Honour's false and Faith is dead) ; 
Came again in kirtle blue 
(Honour's fair and Faith is true). 

Etarre 

You're quick in mocking me with children's rhyme. 
Make me a rhyme to mock this rainbow bird 
Whose crest is finished. How he sweeps and flies ! 
Come, I'll begin it. 

[Sings.] 
On the wind there flies a bird ; 
He is come from distant shores. 
From the dawn's unopened doors 
To the western gates unstirred. 
In his winged flight there run 
Colours of the setting sun. 

Do you end the song. 

AiLEEN [singing] 

Eyes and lips and sweet desires 
Are but feathers for his wings. 
Burning love the song he sings ; 

All thy hope and thought are fires 
Giving light unto his eyes ; 
[53] 



Life and youth, 

Beauty, truth, 
Are the strength wherewith he flies. 
Snowy breast and golden hair 
Are but plumes for him to wear. 
He shall sing a summer's day. 
Clap his wings, away, away. 

Etarre 

III caught. You've made your bird too like to 

Time, 
The raven dark who speeds across the world. 
And dressed him in fine colours like a daw 
Which steals strange ornament. 

AiLEEN [singing] 

Silken raiment wherein dressed 
Beauty shimmers half divine. 
Glint of jewels, rare and fine, 

Are but colours for his crest. 

Crimson colours for his wings ; 

Hark ! 'tis love whereof he sings ! 
Brave and gay, a summer's day. 
Ere he flies away, away. 

Etarre 

I like it not. 
It troubles me with some half-dreamed lament. 
An unknown broken promise, I know not 
To whom, nor for what purpose, made. Poor bird 
Here woven on the loom, thou art maligned ! 
Thou art pure fancy of mine inmost dreams, 

[54] 



Not touched with these gross images of earth. 

Thy colours are imperishable light 

Caught from the steadfast sun and held secure. 

Thou'lt never fly away, but here remain 

To be mine eye's interpreter of joy, 

To hang upon my castle walls, and sing 

Thy crimson colours in sheer ecstasy. 

AlLEEN 

Ay, let him live in silken thread and woof ; 
There is a bird which flies from mortal grasp. 
Most fair he is, to perch upon our wrist 
With flashing colours, and from sunlit throat 
Pour forth his flooding heart's high melodies. 
In every word you speak, he trills and sings ; 
In every motion of your hand, he moves 
With wings aflutter ; in your brightening eyes 
He lives triumphant : oh, beware, beware ; 
Too soon he's gone, and in the dusk and chill 
No nightingale shall waken into song. 

Etarre 

What mean you ? Life and Youth and Happi- 
ness ? 
I have them in sweet surfeit. 



AlLEEN 



And of love ? 



Etarre 

How many times did I forbid his name 
And cast him from my highest battlement ? 

[551 



With subtle track you turn upon my words 
And lead me toward that monstrous loathing, hid 
In all your thoughts. Shall I not be content 
With golden solitude, that I must bind 
Love's naked body to my car of dreams ? 

AlLEEN 

A maiden's eyes, a maiden's wise, 
The open gates of paradise. 

Etarre 

What mask of rhyme holds revel in your brain 
That you make mock of me ? 

AlLEEN 

A loveless fate, and Eden's gate 

Is barred with double sword of hate. 

Etarre 

Have done ! have done ! 

AlLEEN 

Flame that burns not, stream that flows not, 
Maid that loves not, Eden knows not. 

Etarre 

This is an old wives' song, a ragged cloth 
With halting stitches sewn in knotted thread, 
And you would clothe me with it like a queen ! 
I am content with life ; you'd stir the stream 
To waters turbid as the floods in spring. 

[56] 



AlLEEN 

I pray for love's awakening, to end 
This dream that hides its own poor solitude 
In deep illusion of a soulless life. 
My heart can do no more. 

Etarre 

Not more, yet less, 

And cease to weary me with hopes and tears. 

Your tongue moves ever in the wells of speech 

Drawing new wonders to the light of day ; 

And chief there-mid the curling snake of love 

Winds envious through all your words. Have 

done. 

[Maris enters.] 

AlLEEN 

And here comes one to guide you in your ways, 
To steep your heart in cold indifference. 
And marble every living pulse and vein. 

Maris 

I pray you, give me moment's grace, to cross 
Your silken fancy with rough thread of care. 
I have been troubled with much thought of late ; 
Our silent halls have heard my pacing step 
And stared in dark displeasure, matching frown 
Of sullen stone to sullen brow of thought. 

Etarre 

Has Care thrown nets within my castle-yard 
Or brought us siege ? We'll catch him prisoner 

[57] 



And show him forth. Speak on, lay bare his 

haunt ; 
Pull down his hiding place and hale him out. 

Maris 

Your eyes have seen him, many a day that's past. 
He will not be gainsayed, but comes again 
With unstilled clamour to our quiet walls. 
He carries armour like a knight, has shield, 
A spear, a sword, yet will no battle bear ; 
We drag him out and cast him to the wilds. 
Where nature tends him with her healing dew 
And dries him with the sunshine and the wind. 

Etarre 

Pelleas. 

Maris 

The orbed and golden fire of day 
With no more steadfast pace in heaven's track 
Returns to us : yet one gives light and warmth. 
The other is a flame within our fields 
That must be quenched. 

AlLEEN 

Flame quenches flame, but sword 
Can cut it not. 

Maris 

Here's parable enough 
To quench the very sun in ignorance 
And cloud the light of reason in our brains. 

[58] 



Etarre 

Her idle speech yields up its idle tale : 

To all her riddles waits a single key, 

A key which I have dropped in blackest moat. 

Maris 

You've carved a rune to clear a parable. 

Your words are like a flight of winged birds 

Crossing from sea to sea above my head ; 

I watch them pass, yet know not where they go. 

But as for Pelleas, we'll speak of him ; 

He has a malady which eats his life 

Like rain upon a sword-blade, turning steel 

From flash and splendour into edgeless rust ; 

Deeper and deeper sinks the water-drop 

Till all's corroded and the biting teeth 

Of slow destruction meet from either side. 

And such a sword is worthless unto men. 

Fit for quick burial. In short word and brief. 

For Pelleas I come, to counsel death. 

Etarre 
You'd have me slay him ! 

AlLEEN 

Overstepped indeed ! 
He runs with too great fury. 

Etarre 

Shall my name 
Be joined with murder's most ignoble rout 
And brought to silence ? 

[59] 



Maris 

Not in cruelty 
I come. There are some souls so weighed with life, 
So deep in sorrow, so oppressed with ill. 
That death comes like a prison-keeper kind 
To strike away the chains of their captivity. 
The holy Church's covenant of hell and heaven 
Is but a prophecy of that unmeasured dark 
Wherein the dead find sustenance and life ; 
And men in their last hour come down unto the 

strand 
With all earth's hills behind them, and the level 

sea 
Ready for new emprise unknown and unexplored. 
Death is the hand that sends them from the shore. 
And death the wind that swells within their sails. 
And unto them that walk with leaden eyes 
Viewless and vacant as the staring blind 
Through life's harsh country, weary and despaired. 
To them, you call it cruelty and hate 
To give them vision of th' eternal sea 
Which leads into th' unknown ? Oh, be assured 
That Mercy, queen of heaven, with backward grasp 
Beneath her grey-starred gown holds fast a sword. 
And unto some poor souls, in gift of gifts, 
Brings not fine balsam, but the edge of death. 

Etarre 

What charge is this ; am I then merciful ? 
Did mercy move me through the days and weeks 
Of his imprisonment, when he was cast 

[60] 



To sleep among the nettled dungeon-holds 
And pray for sunbeams in a lightless pit ? 
Did mercy move me when with jest and jeer 
You dragged him in the dust of horses' hoofs 
Or cast him in the sight of beast and bird 
To be their mockery ? Freedom I sought. 
Slaves can be cruel, and I was worse than slave. 
Tormented with the thought that I was strong 
And he was weak, yet he with all his cries 
Made day a nightmare, and within my breast 
Dried up the wells of pity. Idle hope 
That I should turn against myself, and walk 
On paths of mercy ! 

Maris 
Slay him and be free. 

Etarre 

Slay him, and hear the owl at nightfall cry. 
And watch the rooks, wind-blown above the 

towers, 
Circle and caw, while all with self-same voice 
Say " Murderer .f^ " Slay him, and think the dew 
Is born of lamentation, and the wind 
Is come on wings funereal and wild 
To scream for vengeance from the fiends of hell ? 
Slay him, you say, and watch the lips of men 
Curdle against me, till my frenzied hands 
Are clapped above mine ears to hide the sound 
Of spoken evil ? O unhappy, I, 
Laden with unpremeditated wrong 
Which will not alter. Oh, unhappy grief ! 

[61] 



AlLEEN 

How changed is your contentment, torn aside 
To bare the inner sorrow of unrest. 
Oh, leave these false pursuings ; be at ease 
With woven pictures and imagined scenes 
And make not real the dreams of tragedy. 

Etarre 

Dreams, dreams, false shadows, phantom thoughts, 

How I am wearied of their flapping wings 

Across the twilight of imagined worlds ! 

There is a change within me of new hours 

And other suns ; I could be kind or cruel 

With unsuspected tenderness and hate. 

There's something born within me, great and 

strange, 
A child of impulse, wakened in my veins. 
I'll have no more of dreams ; come take this loom 
And set it forth to other hands. And now 
We'll hearken. Maris, to your deathly plaint. 

AlLEEN 

I wish you were not wrought of changeful mood. 
But late, you spoke of solitude's content 
And wove yourself a golden web of dreams. 
And now you've torn it like a tangled fly 
Within a spider's mesh that's spun too weak. 

Etarre 

Too weak it was ; I've torn it with a word. 

[621 



AlLEEN 

And with a word rebuilt it many a time. 

Etarre 
Tlie spider's dead ; he'll weave no more. And now 
We'll listen. Maris, to your plea of hate. 

Maris 

'Tis not in hate I urge it. Well you know 
I bear no hate to mightier knights than I. 

Etarre 

And well you know I loathe your Pelleas 
And turn all praise of him to darker speech. 

Maris 

Still darker speech has gone abroad, to stain 

The honour of Etarre and all her knights. 

There is a tale now told in other halls, 

And false it rings, and yet, alas, is true. 

It tells of one lone knight who puts to scorn 

Dungeon and steel, a foe who will not fight 

Yet always conquers. Men speak hard of you 

And call you vampire, sucking might and power 

From lovelorn men. If this continues on. 

Before the year's end Camelot will hear. 

For Arthur's knights ride fast through all this 

land. 
If you would keep untarnished light of fame. 
This Pelleas must vanish from the land. 
And mouths of men gape empty of ill words. 

[63] 



Etarre 
And if they know I slew him ? 

Maris 

Not by guile ; 
By open battle in the sight of men. 

Etarre 

And who is there in all this land of mine 
To battle with Sir Pelleas ? 

Maris 

Even I. 
For he is fallen from his ancient strength 
Till I and he are grown one force in arms. 

Etarre 
And if he slay you ? 

Maris 

Then my cause is lost ; 
I bear the sorrow. 

Etarre 
If he will not fight ? 

Maris 
We'll give him open choice to fight or die 
And love of you will guide him in his choice. 

Etarre 

And then he'd slay you ! I have seen his spear 
Go down the lists and ravish charging steeds 

[64] 



Of their proud burden. I have seen his sword 
Shear crest and helm, and leap through buckled 

steel. 
He'd slay you, slay you, and with eager cry 
Come throw himself before me, plead for love. 
No ; other ways there are wherein men die, 
And I, the vampire of the strength of men. 
Shall know a better counsel. 

[A horn is heard.] 
Hark, a horn ! 
Go bring me news. Return with every speed. 

[Maris goes out.] 
Look from the window ; is there aught to see ? 

AlLEEN 

The sinking light of day on field and moor, 
A flight of birds, the moving heads of grain. 
The leaves ashiver on the trees ; nought else. 

Etarre 
What meant that horn ? Is Pelleas returned 
And have my knights brought me but empty words. 
Boasting completion of the unfulfilled ? 

AlLEEN 

It cannot be. Some other danger calls ; 
For Pelleas is cast upon the hills 
And comes not riding with imperious haste 
Of new adventure. 

Etarre 

Year and threefold year 
Unvisited of danger, I have held 
F [651 



Communion with the change of day and night ; 
Wrapped in the quiet of a warless land 
I have forgotten ravaging and death, 
As one who inland dwelling on the hills 
Forgets the loud-tongued clamour of the sea 
And thinks to measure fierceness of all storms 
By that weak wind that plays upon the moor, 
Forgetting all the wrack and thund'rous surge 
Which sweeps to ruin : on a sudden day 
He comes unto the cliffs and hears the sea. 
The menace of the waters holding guard 
Before the portals of the earth. So I. 
And here is war with brazen throat and strong 
Come crying at my door, and I have slept. 

AlLEEN 

Here is no tramping of the hoofs of war ; 

Some messenger on peaceful journey bent 

Craves food and shelter, giving in return 

The last hot news of joust at Camelot 

And feast of Arthur's knights, the noble tales 

Of battle unto giant and to dwarf 

In magic wood and isle snake-habited ; 

Fen-dwelling sorcerers and craggy fiends ; 

The last sad word of knights no more returned ; 

Court-news and scandal, like a spider's thread 

That waves in th' wind, seeking whereon to build. 

Etarre 

Whate'er it be, my warders stand at guard 
In quick restraint lest any enter in, 

[661 



And unexpected come, and unannounced. 
Where's Maris that he waits so long ? 
[Gawaine enters, with helm and shield of Pelleas. 
The visor is down.] 

Who's here ? 
Pelleas ? Quick, help me ! call for Maris ! help ! 
Help, Balarin and Avran, Erse, and Dane ! 
Is no one here to help me, none to come ? 
O treachery outdark'ning all belief ! 
What ! none, not one, — one man to bring me help ? 

AlLEEN 

He dare not so assail you ! If he come, 

I'll cast myself against him, break his path, 

And hamper him till you be fled. 

[Gawaine stands unmoved, leaning upon his shield.] 

Etarre 

What ! still ? 
No motion, no advance to pluck me hence ? 
You're harrier and I the song-bird caught. 
And you leave sheathed your claws ? What, great 

of heart. 
You dare so come, and offer me, not death, — 
No ! that's too little for your hungry soul ! — 
But kindness and a sword that holds its sheath ? 
You dare so stand before me, raise no hand 
To bring me hurt ? You dare humility ? 
O impudence that mocks my woman's strength 
And spurns all vengeance, every stroke of sword ! 
You've slain my knights or caught them with some 

trick, 

[67] 



You've made me here defenceless to your might, 
And now you stand before me dumb and still 
And speak no word and raise no awful hand. 

AlLEEN 

Shall I bring aid, go search the battlements. 
Call every serf from labour, strip the fields ? 
He will not dare assail you. 

Etarre 

Here abide. 
I need not man's assistance ; woman's will 
;And woman's word borrow an unknown strength 
When wrong's at issue. Here, in last defence. 
You stand on trial, plead a mortal cause 
Before an unrelenting judge. Have care 
Of every moving word and springing phrase 
Lest they o'ertip the balance with false weight. 
Much have I found of blame and heavy fault : 
A restless spirit walking in the night, 
His mantle blown by gust of unseen winds 
Across the darkness toward the home of storms 
Where stars and sun are hidden ; so he moves. 
Wild-eyed with some new vision drawn aghast ; 
And this is he who makes my life a curse, 
Pelleas, the knight ; for him make your defence ! 
W^hat ! not an outburst of an injured love ? 
Are not those furnaces of passion stirred 
That shone so ruddy in the dark of hate. 
That burned upon the hill-tops of abuse 
Like beacon fires, those furnaces of love 

[68] 



That once consumed your soul to ashen drift 
And made you like a coal that's burnt to th' end ? 
What ! not a word ? no, not a single word ? 
Is all your life's endeavour stricken dumb ? 
Then hark ; for them that will not plead their cause 
Judgement is given. You have sinned too much 
To keep the water's surface ; lead, and more than 

lead. 
Drags at your body, and the stream's quick flood 
Closes above you, who are judged and damned. 
A thousand ways you've found in your offence : 
Your shadow has been dark on all my paths, 
A fiery shadow burning grass and herb. 
You've eaten out the petals of my life 
And strewn my happiness like withered leaves 
On autumn walks ; you've been the wind and rain 
To hold me prisoner beneath my roof 
Longing in vain for sunlight and clear skies. 
You've sinned too much against me, you have 

moved 
A hundred feet beneath my castle walls 
And with huge shoulders shaken keep and tower ; 
You've caught the lightning on the barren wild 
And driven it against me like a hound ; 
For like the stroke of earthquake underground 
Or bolt of errant flame across the night. 
So have you shaken me and burned my sight. 
So have you cast my life in monstrous ruin 
And blackened all the walls of strength and love. 
For this you have no penitence, no grief, 
But are returned like hawk upon his flight 
To seek anew the victim you have struck ; 

[691 



But I am changed to poison-throated snake 
With deadly venom poised upon my tongue 
And all my body tense in gathered coil ; 
No harmless serpent of the fens am I, 
But an undreamed and deadly throat of pain ; 
I call you to that sombre house of rest 
Wherein all men must while eternally. 
I have been bitter ; drunken deep in words 
I have assailed you ; now I speak no more. 
Prepare you for your death. I seek my knights. 
[Gawaine raises the bar of his helmet. Etarre 
starts aghast.] 

Gawaine 

There is no need. I am not Pelleas. 

Etarre 

What knight are you ? Oh speak, how came you 

here ? 
What dark intent of silence led you in ? 
W^hat will you of me ? Are you rapine's hand 
Or stroke of vengeance, war's untimely sword. 
Some miracle of quick disaster sprung 
From seed unplanted ? Speak ! 

Gawaine 

Gawaine am I, 
Knight of King Arthur's Court, of royal kith. 
Deception's mask no guiltier purpose hides 
Than from your love and anger to extort 
A knowledge in each mood of praise or blame 
And learn if I win favour for my deed. 

[70] 



Etarre 
What deed ? You've slain my knights ? 

Gawaine 

They are unharmed. 

Etarre 

Are they not stricken and not captive bound ? 
Do men-at-arms still hold their watch and guard ? 
How came you here ? Were all my servants false ? 

Gawaine 

Smooth words and promise of high recompense. 
An oath of loyalty unto your cause, 
A servitor of yours that knew my face 
In other days and other lands — no more ; 
These were enough to gain my entrance here. 
Your servants sought to serve you as they could. 
Thinking to win new favour through my aid. 
Deal not too harshly with them, but on me 
Turn all the passion of your fit rebuke. 

Etarre 

I have no heart to chide a noble knight 
Well known in Caerleon's court. But answer me. 
This shield so quartered, see, I know it well. 
Yon helm with the green plume half caught aside. 
These are of Pelleas. 

Gawaine 

From him I took them. 

[71] 



Etarre 
You've slain him or but made him prisoner ? 

Gawaine 
Not made him prisoner. 

Etarre 

Then slain ? 

Gawaine 

Yea, slain. 
In battle smitten to the final breath. 

Etarre 

Dead, Pelleas ! Now let the hooded sun 
Break forth in splendour, let the golden moors 
Proclaim thanksgiving from a thousand flowers ! 
Oh, I am as the earth, with winter bowed. 
Who sudden feels the weight of snow and frost 
With one great stroke from his twain shoulders 

cast. 
And leaps unto his feet, and calls for Spring. 
For I had taken resolution dread. 
And death was all about me, lithe and dark. 
To haunt my footsteps and in silent halls 
Afflict my purpose with the nightmare forms 
Which Horror views with shuddering lidless eyes 
Or with fixed stare pursues. Join exultation 
And be aroused to song, my silent heart ; 
We are of much relieved, our troubled days 
That were as night's dark pall of mist and cloud, 

[72] 



Are turned to smoke upcurling in the sun, 
And vanish in the clear expanse of hght. 

Gawaine 

Have you no pity, are you carved of stone ? 

This is unholy so to cry and sing, 

To whet rejoicing on the steel of death. 

Etarre 

Is it unholy for the wanderer 

Through night's black pitfalls and most secret lures 
To hail the sunrise with a joyful song, 
Knowing he walks securely on his way ? 

Gawaine 
I could not slay a man*with such wild heart ! 

Etarre 

It is not I who slew him ! Oh, be glad. 
Look you, I am most merciful and kind ; 
You know not all my history of grief. 
You know not how he came across my life, 
Black thread within the weaving of my joys ! 

Gawaine 
Noble he was, and glorious in strength. 

Etarre 

Whereof I had much cause of bitterness. 

We thrust the dwarf aside, spurn him the path ; 

[731 



The giant brings us terror in our knees. 

Oh, had he not so noble been, so strong, 

So burning on the hps of man and maid, 

So high redoubted in all mighty arms, 

I would have pitied him, not hated to the last. 

Gawaine 

Have you no sorrow now, that he is dead; 
Have you no word of praise ? 

Etarre 

Oh, ask me not ; 
But unto you who brought me into peace, 
All gratefulness of heart, all kindly words. 
Be welcome to our halls, and bide with us. 

AlLEEN 

Shall I prepare a chamber for our guest ? 

Etarre 
With every speed. Let Avran know of this. 

Gawaine 

I cannot here abide. My journey calls. 
I was on idle mission sent and vain. 
I must go hence again in haste. 

[AiLEEN, at a sign from Etarre, goes out.] 

Etarre 

Oh, stay ! 
It is unkindness to defeat all thanks 

[74] 



And set true praise at loss ; you render base 
Her whom your kindness most has cherished. 
Most nurtured into grateful ways. You spurn 
The springing blade of recompense, and flee 
Before its growth has quickened into leaf. 

Gawaine 
A truer deed, that is not done for gain. 

Etarre 

Those purposes were never truly sown 

Which no man bides to reap ; but like the wind 

You've scattered bounty with a careless strength 

And run abroad intent on other joys. 

The harvest threshers mock with plundered chaff 

The wind that sowed and knew not how to reap ; 

Be more advised and with more human grace 

Glean recompense and store the golden grain. ' 

Gawaine 

With how persuasive touch you lull asleep 
The serpent-heads of honour. 'Tis too late. 
For they have set their fangs within me deep, 
And I must go. 

Etarre 

For honour ? Is it honour 
To trample welcome underfoot, and turn 
With angry frown from greeting to farewell ? 
Does honour quarrel with hospitality 
And virtue with all kindness ? 

[75] 



Gawaine 

Ask my Wish 
And learn it does not with my Will accord ; 
Prove Inclination, and 'twill here abide, 
But speak to Duty, Knighthood, Self-resolve, 
And they will cry "To horse !" and ride away. 

Etarre 

Is it Ill-will that plucks you by the sleeve, 
A servant in high banquet come to call 
His master forth on other needs ? 

Gawaine 

Ah, no ; 
For admiration pours me heavy wine 
Of looks and words persuasive to the sense. 
I pray your pardon if I seem unkind : 
There is a vow which bids me hence. 

Etarre 

A vow? 
Of fasting and of shelterless advance 
Through rainy ways and dripping nights a-cold ? 

Gawaine 

A vow most recent to impatient lips. 
To further love's advantage. 

Etarre 

Then remain ; 

Tell me the tale and I with woman's heart 

Can find a surer way than quickest wit 

[76] 



Of man's device. Thus shall you hold the vow 
And further love's advantage. 

Gawaine 

'Twere in vain; 
For she is hard of heart and loves him not. 

Etarre 

Is he of manner lovable and kind. 

In birth accepted and in courtly ways ? 

Gawaine 

All these he is, noble and great and true. 
Knighthood he honours, and the halls of men 
Which feel his stately presence. Such an one 
Is like a crown upon the head of kings, 
Adorning them with beauty. He is strong 
As mountain elm or heaven-cresting pine, 
Yet in his deeds more gentle than a child 
And in his thought as pure. 

Etarre 

'Tis you that love. 
Could she with such enamoured eyes behold. 
The earth would shrink to nothing at her feet 
And he would stand alone against the stars, 
A hero, crowned with passion, as with light. 
In other guise she knows him, be assured. 
And finds some deadly fault whose clinging tooth 
Tears at his virtues and with venomed drop 
Discolours those fair tints wherein he shines. 

[771 



Can you not say with what quick wrong estranged 
She holds him from her ? 

Gawaine 

By a wilful mood, 
A child's unreasoned passion of dislike. 

Etarre 

There is an eye more deep than reason set. 
False-shadowed forms deceive the fleshly sight. 
False words with reason dally, lead astray 
The wisest thought ; but this is undeceived. 
Have you not marked how the untutored wild 
With thoughtless vision of pure sense discern 
Their friends or enemies in humankind ? 
And so with woman when she loves or hates. 
Ask why the leaf unfolds to April rain 
But lies close-hidden from the winds of March. 

Gawaine 

Did I not say, "In vain" ? My mind forebode 
A fruitless mission. Therefore, let me go. 

Etarre 

Is this a snare of wisdom curling round 
Into unreason ? You go forth in vain : 
"Therefore," you say, "make haste!" Nay, 

therefore bide ; 
If you are so persuaded, that your words 
Can never waken love in this Unknown, 
This obdurate and loveless Beautiful 

[78] 



Who spurns this knight of yours and will not heed. 
Then bide with me, and feast with me, and dream 
Of more successful loves, more gracious toils. 
More sweet acceptance. You are welcome here, 
For you have freed me from a deep distress 
Which boded worse disaster, drawing on 
With monstrous shapes and dreams of murdered 

men : 
For with my own weak hands and woman's 

strength. 
Goaded by anger, driven by despair 
I should have bartered Pelleas with death, 
And sold him to the fearful hands of night 
To be their captive, gaining in return 
From that grim changers'-table quick release 
And freedom from the bonds of hate. 

Gawaine 

In vain ! 
Did I not say, "In vain".'* — This murdered 

knight, 
This Pelleas, was noble-souled and great 
And women loved him. 

Etarre 

Like a strangling noose 
He clung about my heart ; through pulse and vein 
A clogging hatred thickened, and my mouth 
Grew dry with anger and unbidden rage. 
But tell me why you slew him ; not in hate, 
For praise you speak ; and not in rivalry. 
For great you name him. 

[791 



Gawaine 

'Twas a slanderous tale 
Against your beauty and your name. To him 
I told it ; and in sudden fire he shone 
And with his sword and spear proclaimed you true. 

Etarre 

Who bade him praise me ? let my word and deed 
Be their own champion, dress their shields alone 
And ride to battle ! Was my hate in vain 
That he should hound me with remorseless love ? 

Gawaine 
For you he died. 

Etarre 

And I shall bury him 
And on his mound set an ungraven stone, 
That I may cast him alway from my mind 
As life has cast him from her herald's scroll. 
But you who from the one have purged his name 
Shall never from the other be effaced. 

Gawaine 
I pray you let me now depart in peace. 

Etarre 

By all the sacred bonds of gratitude 
I fetter you and hold you now in thrall. 
By courtesy of knighthood, by the grace 
Of man to feebler woman, by the strength 
Of that great company of Arthur's knights, 

[80] 



By creed of chivalry and law of faith 
I conjure you, remain ! 

Gawaine 

Accursed vow, 
What evil have you brought me ! Will you come 
And cry fulfilment of your darkest word ? 
For I must bide and to the utmost proof 
Display that broken embassy of love 
Whose hopes are all in vain ! 

Etarre 

Like stricken priest 
Who sees temptation writ on every wall. 
Wide-eyed for sustenance you murmur prayer. 
Am I a creature wrought in deadly shape 
Of mortal passion, that with quivering fear 
You dare not here abide and with me feast 
Holding high converse of adventured deed ? 
You do offend me with ungracious thoughts 
And with unworthy shaft suspicion point. 
Yet shall you be forgiven with full heart 
If you from stern intention draw aside 
And turn to kindness. For three nights and days 
Let helm and breastplate join with greave and 

spur 
Unstirred in idleness. 

Gawaine 

With eager hands 
I lay aside the heavy press of mail. 

[81] 



Etarre 

My knights shall swift disarm you. Here remain ; 
My servants shall attend you. 

[She leaves the room.] 

Gawaine 

Fatal vow, 
For thee I am assailed. How hard of heart. 
How cold to pity is that glorious form, 
That haunting presence ! Yet, what body's grace 
Here shone about me ! with what subtle charm 
Of pleading voice and of unveiled desire 
She bade me welcome ! Nay, not ice and stone 
That lovely breast, though it be white as snow 
And like unsullied marble carven out. 
O honour, bide with me, unshaken, strong ; 
O knighthood, watch above me. Deep events 
Have wrought me danger. O thrice wretched vow 
That makes my path a journey through the dark 
And spreads disaster wide on every hand ! 

CURTAIN 



[821 



ACT THREE 

SCENE: Three richly bedecked pavilions, the 
central one in the foreground, the two others set 
further back. Draperies and silk hangings. 
The curtain of the central pavilion is drawn 
aside to reveal the decorated interior. Within, 
and near the entrance, are seated Gawaine and 
Etarre. To the left, through the branching trees 
and above their summits, the walls of the Castle 
of Etarre are dimly visible. Toward the 
right, a gentle slope descends to a thicket which 
shuts off the view. The last colours of sunset 
are in the sky. 

Etarre 

Now sinks the day beneath the western rim. 
Night's hooded shepherd gathers-in the Hght 
And drives the crimson and the purple hues 
From highest heav'n unto their twihght fold ; 
There shall they sleep till morn upwakes anew 
And sends them forth on eastern pasturage. 
O golden cloud, farewell ; and yonder, too, 
Which like a billowed sea upon the West 
Heaves ruddy flame. Farewell, sweet colours all ; 
The night makes shut the heavy doors of sleep 
And seals the portals with a silver star. 

[83] 



Gawaine 

Dim silence flings its misty veil abroad. 

Hark ! how the birds are stilled, and one by one 

Drop off to slumber. 

Etarre 
Soon the horned bat. 
Shy lover of the twilight, soft of flight, 
With ribbed wings in noiseless here-and-there 
Will weave the darkness ; and the searching owl 
Will be a shadow-phantom clothed with sight. 

Gawaine 

Gone is the day, and now another sun, 
Another taper in th' eternal halls. 
Is quenched for ever. 

Etarre 

So the breath of night 
Moves down the long expanse of kindled flames 
And one by one makes dark the future days. 
Until the last weak taper is blown out 
And night unending rules the sunless world. 

Gawaine 

Let not the sadness of departed day 
Weigh present joy with far fore-boded grief. 
Night robs us not of vision, though her hands 
Pluck down the light from heav'n and bind our 

eyes. 
Night clothes herself in beauty like a queen 

[841 



And robes her naked body with soft folds 
Whose half-concealment makes more rapturous 
The deep allurement of her charms. The day 
Is but a meadow garlanded with flowers ; 
The darkness is a forest, deep and far, 
Where wonders move in every rustling leaf. 
And every footfall of the wind foretells 
Some mystic presence. In the noonday sun 
We see too well, and thence see not at all ; 
But in the night our very spirit wakes, 
And with more gleaming power than day-lit eyes 
Reads deep the world's enchanted rune. 'Tis 

Night 
Who unto our most sacred thought and word 
In birth brings forth the beauty of the soul. 

Etarre 

With quiet hands she lights her waiting stars 
And sends them forth to wander in the skies. 

Night, sweet mother of eternal calm, 

1 owe thee penance. Thy bright brother. Day, 
Has lured me with his colours. 

Gawaine 

See, the East 
Is spreading silver cloth of woven light. 

Etarre 

The little people of the hills and meads 
Now hold their gathering at full of moon, 
With grave debate enacting law and will 

[851 



Whereby to rule. In angry conclave set. 
They gird their resolution unto war, 
Till beast and bird are stricken by their wrath 
And cry full penitence. 

Gawaine 

This is a tale ; 
Yet in this land are wonders strange enow 
Which I myself have witnessed. 

Etarre 

There be three 
Who hold this land in power, and with strange skill 
Ordain the deeds of men. They oft appear 
To travellers intent on distant ways 
And by a gift of favour bind their will. 
These three have you encountered ? 

Gawaine 

Even they. 
What shall their craft portend ? 

Etarre 

Nor good nor ill. 
My knights in journey unto other courts, 
My men from field returning at the dusk 
Have met these three and for some trifling grace, 
A draught of water or a sprig of thorn, 
Been bound to choice, but having mid the three 
To one assented are unharmed released. 

[The moon rises.] 

[86] 



Gawaine 

Whence are they, and with what mahgn intent 
Draw toll from men ? 

Etaere 

This no man knows or deems. 
They are of mist and water, and their ways 
Are as the air phantastic or the clouds 
Which change their shape to every wilful mood. 
But this adventure comes from many lips 
And I would hear some deed of sword and spear 
Wrought by your hand alone, and from your lips 
Alone recounted. Were you not of they 
Who sought the Grail through lands beyond the 

sea 
And wrought adventure such as none had 

dreamed ? 

Gawaine 

A future quest, forever unfulfilled ; 
A lure across the rainbow to the sun ! 
'Tis present always and yet never here. 
May I not be of them who make this life 
A great To-be, a vision and a dream. 
Has earth no riches, that we ride aquest 
To find the silver path beyond the moon ? 
Are there no flowers save those which other walls 
Enclose for ever from us, and no streams 
Save those beyond the trackless rocks, no sun 
In our own heav'n and no portentous stars 
Save those which others see ? O wretched souls 
That spurn the wine of life, and drain the cup 

[87] 



Into the basin which is never filled, 

Where all the lees of mad desire run down, — 

The Unattainable, the great In Vain ! 

It is enough for me that here to-night 

I feel the soft sweet air and view the stars 

And hear your voice beside me. 'Tis enough 

That love is beautiful, that life is great, 

That old age is not come, nor winter bleak. 

Etarre 

The year looks backward with half-wistful face 
This autumn night ; the air is soft with spring 
And lulls the senses to a sweet repose. 
So is it on the first warm eve of May 
When earth, expectant of an unseen grace. 
Awaits it knows not what, all awed and still, 
And thinks to hear across the sleeping hills 
The footsteps of divinity returned. 

Gawaine 

And not in vain ; for God, each Spring, descends 

In guise unseen to shape the world anew. 

To plant desire in every fleshly form 

And resurrect the world from winter sleep. 

Meseems, to-night He is returned to earth 

And with soft wand of vernal sorcery 

Brought back the Spring, and in our sleeping 

souls 
Awakened voices singing through the dark 
Like birds beneath the stars, to fill the night 
With rapt enchantment. 

[88] 



Etarre 

Mystical delight ! 
Awake, awake, O sleeping birds of song ! 
Awake within my heart, O silent birds. 
And fill the night with music till the stars 
Tremble in adoration ! Have I lived and breathed 
These many years, these sombre silent years, 
Or was I numbered with the dreamless dead, 
Encharnelled in a palace, deep entombed 
In empty vault of daily thought and deed ? 
Like them that walk within a sleep wide-eyed 
And deem themselves awake, so have I lived, — 
Nay, so been dead, and deemed myself alive. 

Gawaine 
Do you not feel a pulse of eager blood 
Through every vein, striving with beat and throb 
To rouse the broken armies of the spring. 
And hear the stamping of the hoofs, the cries 
Of mounted knights to battle riding down ? 
They are reclaiming to their empery 
The autumn year, and winter's pagan horde 
Falls back before them. 

Etarre 

Not in earth and air 
Alone they conquer, but in human mind 
They set their banners and in human heart 
Stir high their beacons. 

Gawaine 

Yea, in thine and mine. 
Held captive to them here beneath the stars. 

[89] 



Etarre 
The flames leap heavenward with growing beam 
Of kindled passion. O mad heart, wild heart, 
Why do you beat so fast, why leap and strive 
Like wild thing netted, caught within a snare 
That leaves it free to struggle ? O sweet heart, 
Be still, be still ! 

Gawaine 

O sweeter lips, speak on ; 
Or better, speak no more ; but unto mine 
Make harmony of silence and desire. 

[They kiss\ 
[From the 'pavilions in the background is heard a 
voice singing.] 

Song 

When bleak December bares the hills 

And snowflakes curl in air. 
When hoary January chills 

Young hearts with old despair. 
When February plucks the day 

And plumes the stormy night. 
When March winds prowl in quest of prey 

And battle with the light. 
By river marge and reedless lake 

Love makes her weary moan, 
"O April sun, awake, awake !" 

She sings alone, alone. 
O hearts of men, make penance due 

When April draws anear, 
For life is false, but love is true. 

And Spring is here, is here ! 
[90] 



Gawaine 

O singing voice, the year is old and grey. 
Unto the tomb totters her shaking step. 
September has from April stolen dress 
And you by quick illusion are deceived. 

Etarre 

One day, one night, one shift of moon and sun, 
Each year are stolen from the hoard of Spring 
And unto Autumn given. On that eve 
All flowers, unknown to sleep-enchanted eyes. 
Break into blossom from a withered stem. 
The trees are clothed in leaf, the faded stars 
Put on new splendour, and the drowsy earth 
With glow-worm hangs each branch and dewy 

bower. 
It is the year's farewell festivity 
Ere love be quenched and winter cold return. 
Ere bird fly southward under warmer skies 
And fourfoot beast to sunless lair retire. 

Gawaine 

But we unharmed through rainy nights and chill 
Shall hear the storm about the towered walls, 
And in security close-wrapped shall laugh 
When winter's frosty fingers pierce and pry 
At every stone and corner, and the wind 
Cries like a beast unsheltered through the night. 
Yea, thou and I, caught in each other's arms. 
Shall dream of stormy battle overhead 
When winter with the giants of the north 

[911 



Sweeps down across the hills and smites the plain 

With desolation, when above the dead 

The whirling snow in burial descends, 

When waters are bound captive in strong chains. 

When wells are sealed, and rivers turned to stone. 

And I will tell thee many a tale and strange 

Of dark enchantment wrought in waking dreams. 

Of magic lawns, and flowers that backward draw. 

Of shields that burn in flame, and helms that raise 

Quick serpents clutching the unwarded blow. 

So shall we hold the icy fiend at scorn 

And waken endless summer in our breast. 

With love to sing to us, and love to clothe 

Our souls with gladness and our hearts with peace. 

Etarre 

How many times I love thee, whom three days 
Have scarcely crowned, whom speech and look 

and thought 
Have scarce revealed ! And yet a thousand suns 
Could with no lordlier radiance bind thy brows 
Nor with more light illumine. 

Gawaine 

Thou art dear 
As pearl deep-hidden in the lightless sea 
Which careless net a-search for other prey 
By chance drags upward to th' astounded light. 
One glance alone, one beam of shafted day, 
The wretched fisher clutches priceless wealth 
And needs no knowledge wrought of week and year 

[92] 



To teach his fortune. So art thou to me, 
Revealed and perfect in an instant sight. * 

Etarre 

Hold me yet closer, let the Hving world 
Sink from me like wild stars that seek the night 
And downward vanish in the vast obscure. 
Quench yonder gleams that hold the dark in power. 
And ban yon moving shield of argent beam ; 
Veil moon and stars, and draw me to thy own. 

Gawaine 

O best endeared and sweet beloved form, 
Thou art the earth's most precious heritage. 
A thousand years, she fashioned in the dark 
With labour and sad toil, and brought thee forth 
To be her fairest marvel all unstained. 
Thou art of summer nurtured, light-enwrought. 
Cradled in southern flame. 

Etarre 

The silent years 
In their dim fastness of forgotten days 
With virgin toil unrecompensed and lone 
Have fashioned me and brought me to thy hps. 

Gawaine 

And now like shrouded mantles of the dawn 
Soft falling from the shoulders of the sun, 
They do reveal thee, girt and crowned with love. 
Thine inmost self, for utmost worship meet. 

[931 



Etarre 

They have deserted me, like startled birds 
Rising from nook and deep recess of rock 
And wheeling, wheeling higher overhead. 
Till with a sudden impulse they depart 
And leave the watcher on the silent shore 
Alone and marvelling. So have they fled, 
My years of childhood and of maiden thought. 
My lonely years of growing womanhood. 
And I am left alone with love and thee. 
While at my feet the waters smite the shore, 
Wave after wave, in-coming from the deep. 

Gawaine 

Of that great time-swept ocean have no fear. 
The future is a snare to lead the eye 
Toward far horizons clouding the unknown. 
It is the present which our feet must tread 
And there our vision is the most unsheathed 
And we with least illusion can behold. 
Think not of years, but grasp the present day. 
And adamantine make the fleeting phase. 
Arrested and in memory's stone held fast, 
Carved with rich wonder, traced with strange 
design. 

Etarre 

Ah would that Time thus stayed his course, or 

clipped 
The present hour and left it shorn of wings 
To be our prisoner ! For evermore 
Should I so cling to thee, my lips upheld 

[94] 



For thy sweet ardour and enkindled mouth. 
For ever so be clasped within thine arms. 
And dure eternity in thine embrace. 

Gawaine 
All things save this can might of love fulfil. 
Love can of dew make pearls and emeralds 
And build a palace of a ruined moat, 
From deepest forest charm the winged bird 
To minstrelsy and hymeneal song. 
And from the mountains draw the sullen wild 
To serve in quick attendance at the feast. 
With power of shadowed dreams and quickening 

thought 
Love is endowed : she chains eternal things 
To be her servant, binds th' unwilling moon. 
And draws the silver-threaded stars which weave 
The tapestries of heav'n. The golden sun. 
Which like a shuttle moves across the sky 
With strands alternate of the day and night, 
Becomes her slave and lives but for her word. 
For they that love are rulers of the earth 
And in their hands the future ages lie. 

[A nightingale sings close at hand.] 

Etarre 
Did I not say this night was caught from Spring ? 
Hark April's nightingale who turns the dark 
To music, and with radiant voice proclaims 
That summer is not fled, nor autumn here. 
To bed ! to bed ! sweet bird ; with weary eyes 
You'll see the dawn if he o'ertake you singing. 

[951 



Gawaine 

And unto us that selfsame counsel turns 
And bids us sleep. Good night, sweet love, good 
night. 

Etarre 

Kiss me once more, till love be bared indeed 

And I in sweet communion with thy thoughts 

Be drawn into thy life and be a dream 

Within thy mind, a pulse within thy heart. — 

Kiss me once more, till life forsake his toil 

Of mystic alchemy and hidden consonance 

Of soul with body, till he break his glass 

Wherein he visions that processional 

Of generation unto generation matched. 

That sequence of mankind and beast and bird 

Which marks his handicraft : kiss me once more. 

Until he merge my soul in deathless bond 

To thine, and in eternal union join 

Our mind and thought and will. — Kiss me once 

more. 
Till heav'n and earth be reft of all their veils 
And robbed of their mysterious dark conceit. 
Till I behold the circles of the sun 
And see the pulsing of the day and night. 
Hear time upon his anvil forge the stars, 
And be at one with universal might. — 
Kiss me once more, and shatter earth and sky 
Hurl all to dissolution, and with stroke 
Of vast desire still that gigantic heart 
Whose beating is the living, moving world. 
Leave me alone with thee, set round with night, 

[96] 



In universal dark of boundless space. 

Alone, alone, — Kiss me, and so good night ! 

[She rises and comes forward to the entrance of the 
pavilion, where she stands gazing out.] 

How silent treads the night, how soft and still, 

With finger at her lips to hush each sound. 

That none of those who bide beneath her care 

Shall with uneasy dreams be stirred, and wake. 

Sleep soft, ye woods and meadow-lands, 

Ye silent leaves and sleeping flowers. 

Pale primroses, and daisies, ye sweet eyes 

With which the earth looks out on heaven. 

Be still ; all, all, be still. 

Farewell, ye stars which overhead 

Drift by with distant song. 

Moon wide-eyed, watch well ; 

Watch well until the dawn. 

[She lets fall the curtain across the entrance of the 
pavilion, thus shrouding Gawaine and her- 
self from sight. The moon has now risen 
high above the trees and bathes the stage in silver 
light. A soft wind stirs the leaves. Their 
rustling is taken up and transformed to music, 
— at first scarcely audible, but gradually grow- 
ing in intensity, — representing the sounds 
of a late summer night.] 

[The music stills. Pelleas and Fekgus emerge 
from the thicket on the right.] 



[97] 



Pelleas 

Stay still : no further move. Our question here 
Shall find its answer. 

Fergus 

Know you what this means ? 

Pelleas 
Rejoicing and festivity. 

Fergus 

The rite , 
Of burial. 

Pelleas 

What mean you ? 

Fergus 

That the dead 
From battle ride not home. You are betrayed. 
This is rejoicing for your death, festivity 
To honour him who slew you. For she holds 
That Gawaine with true victor's right and might 
Carries your shield and helm. You are betrayed. 

Pelleas 

Though mine own eyes beheld, I scarce should hold 
That such a knight to such a vow were false. 
'Tis Gawaine, born of Caerleon's royal blood, 
Whom you, low-born, attaint. With deadly vow 
He swore him faithful, and in utmost pledge 
Bound life and body to fulfil my love. 

[98] 



These were his words upon my sword-hilt sworn : 
"If I be found unfaithful, changeful, false. 
May my bare throat feel this unsheathed blade. 
May I be cast for ever from the light ! " 

Fergus 

The vow is forfeit. Go ! reclaim the oath. 
They have no fear of you and set no guard. 
Etarre believes you dead, and Gawaine laughs. 
She shall remember that the dead arise 
To wreak their vengeance. In these tents are 

hid 
Sure proofs and testimony. 

Pelleas 

' There remain, 

Within yon thicket hidden, till I come. 
[Fergus draws hack out of sight. Pelleas ad- 
vances up the slope toward the central pavilion.] 

Pelleas 

Is this the timid prey which ran to earth 
Close harried, and like mole which dreads the light 
Drew shut her portals ? This is she who feared 
My least approach, who with armed battlement 
Greeted my coming and with moat unbridged 
Bade welcome. These soft silks and drooping 

fanes 
Point mockery, as though they scorned to hide 
That which they cannot guard. 

[He has approached the curtain of the pavilion.] 
[99] 



So comes the thief 
At dead of night on foul endeavour bent, 
So peers to left and right with fearing eye. 
And so on tip-toe to his booty draws. 
O watching powers of darkness and deceit. 
Grant that I be the very thief and true, 
And not myself the stolen-from, the robbed. 
The injured one down-tracking to his lair 
The plucking knave and claiming back his own ! 
[He raises the curtain and peers in. After a mo- 
ment he suddenly starts back.] 
O sight too horrible for mortal eyes, 
Burning the eye-ball with a blackened scar 
Of infamy and loathing ! Oh, be blind. 
Twice injured eyes. Look not again on light. 
Clothe yourselves round with darkness, and for- 
get 
This fatal gift of seeing ! O accursed, 
O nest of shame breeding repugnant brood 
Of broken oaths and false virginity ! 
Now is the scroll of knighthood ended ; fame 
Forsakes her ancient stronghold of renown. 
The days of chivalry are past, and knights 
With plea insidious of inviolate oath 
Work treason and adultery. This was Etarre, 
The maiden ivory in her chastity. 
With eyes downcast for fear of shame ; and now 
Her lips are drawn apart with hungry sin 
And like a serpent feast on evil fruit. 
O night, how canst thou sleep so still ? Up ! 

Wake! 
With hundred voices clamour at this deed, 

[100] 



And loose the hell-hounds of your winds and 

storms 
To sweep into destruction's cloven pit 
This treachery and crime ! O bitterness of man, 
To see his life down-trodden and the dust 
Of wild despair heap charnel mounds and whirl 
In mockery, while Heaven lifts no hand. 
The oceans are unmoved, the river-floods 
Within their channels tarry, wind and fire 
Their ancient office elsewhere do perform, 
And moon and star smile in serenity ! 
Forsaken, thrice forsaken, with his grief 
Man wrings no pity. The great world is stone ; 
God holds himself aloof, cold, passionless. 
Wrapt in designs of far eternities. 
Spurning the race which shudders at his feet. 
He fashions future kingdoms. Weak, alone. 
From death unsheltered, bearing wounds and ill 
In life upgathered, man cries out in vain 
For judge of evil, champion 'gainst the wrong. 
But I, though I be so forsaken, scorned of God, 
Unheard of earth and Heaven, yet shall I 
Fulfil my vengeance, with unaided hand. 
And right the wrong and champion the true ! 
False Nature, cry farewell to children twain 
Whom thou hast nurtured into infamy ; 
Thou canst not save them ! here, against thy will, 
I slay them, and in mockery of thee. 
[Lifting the curtain of the pavilion with one hand, 

and with the other holding his drawn sword, 

he enters and disappears from view. He 

re-emerges.] 

1101] 



And is it manhood so to halt and fail, 
To hide the sword of vengeance in the sheath 
Of pity ? Thought and deed wage mutual war. 
And deed is conquered ; the weak thought prevails. 
So let them sleep ; I cannot slay them now. — 

[He turns to go, but halts suddenly.] 
What, let that injury to all my hopes 
So slumber on, so let that shameless word 
Sleep unavenged ? — 

Ah me, how still they lay ! 
Gawaine at peace, half god-like in his dreams, 
And she like carven statue motionless. 
Her lips half smiling, her dark-lidded eyes 
Soft closed, and one white hand against her breast 
As though her lover still within her clasp 
Lay sleeping. — 

O deep misery accursed 
To find Etarre at last, and find her so ! 
Am I by craft of wizardry encharmed 
That all my thoughts are shades and fleshless 

dreams ? 
With maiden weal\ness here I stand and weep 
As though I had no strength of hand, no sword 
To bring me vengeance, and no warrior's will 
To punish proved deceit and oath forsworn. 
Unto my mercy's prayer I cast Etarre 
For pittance, but my anger's deadly curse 
Shall Gawaine take, and with the stroke of death 
Drive out his soul from earthly dwelling place 
And ban for ever from the living world. 
[He re-enters the pavilion. After a little, he re- 
emerges.] 

[102] 



Sleep on, sleep on, I cannot slay you here. 
On field of battle, waking and full-armed, 
I'll slay you ; but not here, not now, asleep, 
Unarmed, defenceless. Though you traitor be, 
Of knighthood's stroke unworthy, yet am I 
A knight, and with that sacred oath am bound 
To slay no sleeping man nor foe unarmed. 
To battle with the sword and not, as they 
Who slay their sheep for feasting, to approach 
With sharpened knife the victim's helpless throat. 
Not so in cowardice was knighthood framed. 
Not so adorned for valour. Nay, sleep on. 
You've wronged me more than thousand deaths 

could pay ; 
To take a single life so wretchedly 
Were but a mockery of payment. Nay, sleep 

on, 
And if your dreams affright you, be at ease ; 
For that grim shadow, standing at your bed 
And with malign intent upon your life 
Down-gazing, is departed and returns 
No more to vex you. Ay, sleep on, sleep on. 
[He j)roceeds down the slope. At the foot of the 
slope he is met by Fergus.] 

Fergus 
And was it other than I said ? 

Pelleas 

Full well 
Your heart's malignity foretold me truth. 

[103] 



Fergus 
Gawaine is false ? 

Pelleas 

The night with darkling robe 
No falser thing conceals. 

Fergus 

Where are they hid ? 

Pelleas 
Yonder pavilion holds the twain as one. 

Fergus 

Then have you slain them, meted that reward 
Alone sufficient and well-earned ? 

Pelleas 

They live. 
Fergus 

You had not power, not opportunity 

To fall upon them ; they were held in guard 

Or otherway from you removed ? 

Pelleas 

Unwatched 
Their couch, unarmed they sleep and lone. 

Fergus 

And are not dead ! Are you of honour reft, 
Of resolution shorn, of anger void ! 

[104] 



Unmoved you know yourself betrayed and spurned, 
Laughed at and mocked, your prize of ten long 

years 
Snatched from you in a day, and all your life 
O'ercast with sorrow. Have you not a sword ? 
Do swords not slay ? Alas, suspicion grows ; 
This is not Pelleas who held the field 
Of armoured knights at nought ! This is a shade, 
And Pelleas by years of pining love 
Is grown too frail for manhood, and too weak 
For anger. Quick, take sword, and slay ; 
Set seal of blood on this foul testament. 
Match deed to deed. Send me with hungry knife 
And I will slay, and take the fault, the shame, 
If you have found a fault in such a right, 
A shame in such a work of injured honour. 

Pelleas 

I cannot slay a sleeping knight, nor turn 
The pointed sword against a woman's breast. 
Let us depart this most unhallowed spot 
Lest quick contagion which is here abroad 
Should with its ill infect us. 

Fergus 

Unavenged 
You would depart, and leave no trace behind, 
No proof of anger, no memorial 
To that dishonourable union set, 
As though you were the spirit of the wind 
Across the moors, trailing nor track nor sign 
To mark your presence ? Shall they wake at dawn 

[1051 



And fill another day with wretched love, 

And deem themselves secure and laugh at thought 

Of Pelleas ? 

Pelleas 
Well said, a sign, a sign 
That I am not a shadow, but a man, 
A fleshly thing with mortal strength of arm, 
A threat of punishment, a deadly fear 
Unsilenced in their hearts. 

Fergus 

Ay, still their hearts. 
This is the sign I meant, the sign of death, 
That all men may take knowledge to themselves 
And learn what thing it is thus to forswear 
All honour, and in treason to be false 
To Pelleas. These two together slain 
Shall be a history to all mankind, 
A legend and a saying. 

Pelleas 

Here remain 
Yet once again until the deed be done. 
I shall exact his oath. 

[He ascends toward the pavilion.] 

Fergus 

Praise be to Heaven ! 
The ancient valour is returned, to swell 
High flood of vengeance and exact the oath. 
How ran the words wherewith he pledged his 
life? 

[106] 



*'May my bare throat feel this unsheathed blade, 
May I be cast for ever from the light !" 
Then is he slain. 

[Pelleas enters the 'pavilion.] 
And yet his temper burns 
Like sudden sun upon an April day. 
Hot for the moment but too soon o'ereast. 
Let me go up and strengthen his resolve 
Lest at the last he weaken. 
[He moves toward the pavilion. Pelleas comes out.] 

Ah, returned. 
So soon returned. He had not time to fail. 

Pelleas 

It is fulfilled. Across his naked throat 
My sword has gone. 

Fergus 
And he is slain in truth ! 

Pelleas 

Slain } Nay, not slain, but sleeping as before. 
So let them sleep until the morning comes 
To waken them and they behold my sword 
Across their breasts, close drawn beneath their 

throats, 
A sign, in symbol of a broken oath. 
Come, let us go ; the night draws on apace. 

Fergus 

O idle hope to dream that he was dead. 
By vengeance overtaken ! No ! return ; 

[107] 



Not so that oath was sworn, not such th' intent; 
With death he bargained. Let him death receive. 

Pelleas 

What I have done is with full purpose wrought. 
Come, let us go ; the night draws on apace. 
[They disappear into the thicket. A cloud crosses 

the moon, and a sudden gust of wind shakes 

the trees.] 

CURTAIN 



[1081 



ACT FOUR 

SCENE: In [the Castle of Etarre. A hall, with 
windows overlooking a central court. Early 
morning of a gloomy day. 

Etarre 

Find me some counsel, for with wrath and hate 

My senses are disordered. Let me turn 

And hide myself for ever ; here close- walled 

Within my castle, let me sit and brood 

On man's dishonour and my fallen pride. 

Let me no more be seen of foreign eye 

Lest memory's brand draw fire across my cheek 

And I turn hot with shame. Ah, so deceived 

And in deception so displayed to him 

Who most was wronged ! Speak ! is there no 

escape ? 
Do all the paths draw close their hedged walks 
And bar the way ? And you who sang of love. 
For day and night unwearied in your rhyme, 
Know you no counsel ? 

AlLEEN 

None of wrath and hate. 
[109] 



Etaree 

Shall I be loving ? with corruptive name 
Call falsehood truth and welcome all deceit ? 

AlLEEN 

You are not stricken so beyond all health 

That you must turn to death for comfort, — ay. 

Keep house with grief and marry with despair. 

Etarre 

Then on my sickness lay some remedy ; 
Pluck me some healing herb of sweet advice. 

Aileen 

Forgive, forget. These are most heav'nly sounds 
Which to discordant actions concord bring 
And work harmonious union. Gawaine sleeps 
And of th' event knows nothing. Be as he : 
Know not of broken slumber and a sword. 
Nurture no counsel of unquiet mind 
Against his fault ; he loves you well and true 
And there no falsehood lies. 

Etarre 

Forgive ! forget ! 
Forget that to these walls came Gawaine riding, 
With victor's helm and plume, and with false word 
Cried Pelleas dead ? Forget my joyful praise. 
My love which was but thankfulness of heart 
Upraised in gratitude ? Forgive the lie 

[110] 



Wherewith he lured my thanks and bought my 

love, 
The lie wherewith he sealed my lips and eyes 
And to deep slumber bound me, while another. 
Him whom he boasted slain, within my tent 
In musing stood and saw me in my shame 
And with a naked sword cursed me and him 
With whom I slept ? Forgive, you say ? forget ? 
Not till the mated wolf forget his lair 
Shall I forget, nor till the son forgive 
The slayer of his sire, shall I forgive. 

AlLEEN 

You judge too harshly, with a view too near. 
Like them who hillocks into mountains raise 
Because they stand beneath them, head thrown 

back 
And eyes upcast, unknown that from afar 
These hillocks merge into the level plain. 
No deadly work of ancient kingdoms lost. 
Armed hosts betrayed and knights in prison slain. 
Has Gawaine wrought. He lied ? nay, what of 

that ? 
With false pretence won favour ? 'tis no crime. 
He was with love intentioned : men are fain 
To overstep the fettered pace of honour 
When love's the goal. And do you think him 

base 
Claiming another's death, thereby to gain 
Your love, when to have held the ways of truth 
Led to a loveless issue ? 

[Ill] 



Etarre 

You would make 
Fair winds from stormy quarters blow, and set 
The northern sun in winter skies. With words 
False-founded on the marsh of shifting thought 
You'll not persuade me. 

AlLEEN 

But by surer proof, 
Rock-built and firm, which never wind of doubt 
Can shake to earth. Though Gawaine falsely 

wrought 
And with dishonour entered covenant. 
Let past be past, and mingle not its gall 
With present mead, lest bitter be the draught. 
Gawaine you love; and for that love's fair sake 
Rouse not the past against him. 

Etarre 

Love and hate 
Hang not on every moment's fleeting lure, 
But from dead hours and withered years depend. 
Past thoughts do act upon our present mood 
And get new children ; men are fools, who think 
This deathless creature, time, was ever held 
Within the coflSn : there's no hour o' the day 
But lives for ever in unlessened strength ; 
No mightier love in earth or ocean dwells 
Than that between the present and the past. 
And none more fruitful. Ay, forget the past ? 
Forget the dark which quenches every fire 

[112] 



Within my heart, and in unmindful bliss 

Call Gawaine pure, a knight without a stain ? 

AlLEEN 

And is he so dishonoured ? 

Etarre 

Let me speak, 
Let me be herald and proclaim his deed ; 
For now I mind me of a word he said, 
A truthful tale for lying purpose told. 
His was a quest to win a lady's love. 
Not for himself, he said, — O guileful claim ! — 
But for another. I, with idle wit. 
Knew not 'twas Pelleas of whom he spoke 
And mine the heart which he was sent to win. 
'Twas thus that with another's helm and shield 
He came disguised ; but not as conqueror, — 
As servant bearing message to my halls. 
And like a servant to his master false 
He decked himself with borrowed finery 
And played a stolen part. 

AlLEEN 

'Twas not a slave 
Who played the master, but the royal lord 
In servile garb demeaned. You are unkind 
To make comparison with things unlike 
And thence draw profit. 

Etarre 

He has cast aside 
The cloak of honour, thrown the sceptre down, 
I [113] 



The kingly staff of faith, whereby we rule 
Ourselves and others. Perjured and forsworn, 
To knighthood false, to fellow-knight untrue, 
He wrought upon me with unrighteous deed 
Which to his oath proved mortal and betrayed 
His embassy. 

AlLEEN 

It is himself he harms, 
Not others. Pelleas whom you never loved 
Is not of love defrauded. What, forget ? 
You say to heav'n, you cannot so forget ? 
You have forgotten in an hour's short span 
Ten years of hatred. 

Etarre 

Nay ! I love him not ! 
Yet, when I see a knight so wronged, the tears 
Of pity well unbidden to mine eyes 
In quick compassion ; when I think on him, 
Betrayed by Gawaine and from hope exiled. 
Spurning revenge and to his sleeping foe 
Soft pity granting, can I nourish hate 
Against a grief so nobly self -endured. 
Knighthood so proven ? 

AlLEEN 

What of grief he bore 
Through ten cruel years, knighthood so nobly 

shown 
In joust and battle, dungeon and disgrace ? 
Well, let him stand forgiven : light the fires 

[114] 



Of your resentment, kindle torture-flames. 
And unto Gawaine turn your restless hate. 
Let him hke purest ore be doubly proved 
In midmost heat of anger, till the dross 
Of foolish pride and guileful deed be shed 
And golden faith emerge. He will repent 
And with contrition turn to them he wronged. 
Suing for pardon. 

Etarre 

He shall sue in vain 
If unto me he turn. 

AiLEEN [at the window] 

Within the court 
Rain-drops begin to fall ; the western wind 
From stormy ocean journeys, with the net 
Wherewith he dragged the sea for water-drops 
Across his shoulders flung, dripping with rain. 
His cloak upcast, he hides the morning sun 
And with his fisher's hat throws giant shade 
On all the hills. Look well upon his ways. 
For in your soul there strides a shadow vast 
Hiding the sunlight of clear thought and love 
With clouds of anger, fraught with fall of tears. 

Etarre 
'Twas but a phantom sun at midnight sent, 
A wisp o' the marshes, caught among the stars. 

Aileen 
'Twas the great sun in heav'n, and you have 
spurned 

[1151 



God's utmost gift, the light wherewith men see. 
For love is as a light within the eyes, 
And with it vision enters, bird and beast 
Wax cunning, the fierce eagle's sight is bared 
Where like a drifting point against the clouds 
He holds his guard ; swallows and singing birds 
Gather their tribe and nation, and unvexed 
Go pilgrimage ; who guides them on their way ? 
Who taught the thrush to build his nest, the 

mole 
To dig his halls and chambers ? Well you know 
Desire of life, desire of love, alone 
Give these their knowledge ; river-fish depart 
On distant journey to the ocean stream 
And yet return ; the woodland deer with fawn 
Sees huntsman while the hounds are yet in leash ; 
And arrows miss their prey in summer months. 

Etarre 

Fine threads of fancy, airy webs of thought ; 
They touch me not. 

AlLEEN 

Then hear a grosser tale. 
It is not well that woman's hand should rule 
By man unaided, for in weaker mould 
Her body's strength is fashioned, and her mind 
Trembles before assault. Bright fortune's star 
Has watched above you, for the hounds of war 
Have never drawn their trail across your land, 
And that grim huntsman, who with double stroke 
Slays foe and friend, has passed these regions by ; 

[1161 



'Twas far away we heard the clamorous tongues 

Of questing hounds, and cry of men a-chase. 

But war returns : one quarry run to earth 

And slain in bloody moil, his hounds find scent 

Of other prey. Across the harvest-fields 

He spurs the hunt, through villages asleep. 

By moat and grange, through breadth of all the 

land. 
And when beneath your walls his bugles blow 
And you with woman's strength of arm and will 
Must bold confront him, you will shrink afraid ; 
The walls with stroke of iron-girded beam, 
The shaken portals, towers down-ravening. 
Shall with disaster terrify your sense. 
Yield unto man his heritage of power ; 
His is the crown of courage, his the strength 
Which bides unmoved the deadly front of war. 
To man, but yesternight, you gave your love 
And to his passion yielded sense and soul ; 
To-day you cry release and would reclaim 
Th' irrevocable compact. — Let me speak ! 
You wrong me with your anger ! At your gates 
A wanderer stands, with staff and laden scrip ; 
Upon his brow is written peace, his hands 
A scroll upraise ; he bears the hidden sword 
Of safety, and the cup of heart's content. 
You turn him from your gates, because his feet 
Are travel-stained, because he wears a cloak 
From others taken, and the scroll reads false. 
Be well advised ; this pilgrim comes but once ; 
Throw wide your doors, cry Welcome, he is here ! 

[117] 



Etarre 
I close my portals to him ; from the walls 
I herald him be gone. You fan the flame 
Of anger in me. 

[Gawaine enters.] 

Etarre [to Aileen] 

Let me be alone. 
[Aileen goes out while Gawaine is speaking.] 

Gawaine 
Must love at touch of dawn his dreams dispel 
And from his kingdom flee ? Through empty halls 
I've sought in vain. 

Etarre 
With scrutiny more keen 
Instruct your failing eyes. I am not she 
For whom you search. 

Gawaine 

Why, you are changed indeed. 
Are you some flower that blossoms in the night 
And in the day with envious stalk of thorns 
Enfolds its chalice ? With unfriendly mien 
You look upon me, warn me with set frown. 
Chill me with loveless words. Are you not she 
Who yesternight beneath the flaming stars 
Vowed me eternal love ? You are not she ! 
The day has raised its sword and cleft apart 
That union of our souls. What have I wrought 
Amiss, what deed to love untrue ? 

[118] 



Of your own heart. 



Of knowledge. 



Etarre ' 

Demand 

Gawaine 

'Tis dark, pierced with no Hght 



Etarre 

Nought is to you better known. 
It is forever in your waking mind ; 
The day has written it in thousand hues 
Across your vision ; wheresoe'er you turn 
'Tis burnt and carven in your inmost thought ; 
The cocks have crowed it in their morning song, 
And every word men speak points thumb to it. 
You cannot sleep but in your deepest dream 
It shows its pattern. 

Gawaine 

What is this you know ? 
Have I with slumb'ring spirit's drowsy sense 
Some foolish tale unfolded ? Men believe 
The waking words and not th' illusive dream. 

Etarre 

Your lips betrayed you not : they are too well 
In silence schooled. 

Gawaine 

Then is some message come, 
Some lying tale from sland'rous lips of men ? 

[1191 



Etarre 
Nor spoken word, nor written. 

Gawaine 

From the walls 
You saw some vision to affright your mind 
Against me ? 

Etarre 
Ay, the golden king of day 
Held prisoner in gloomy halls : nought else. 

Gawaine 
Why, then rejoice, and laugh at wind and rain. 
Come, kiss me ; and confess you penitent 
That dawn should wake me in an empty world 
And rob me of the fairest jewel of day. 

Etarre 
Plant flowers to close the grave where murder lies. 
With golden portal seal the beggar's hut. 
But this you cannot hide. 

[From behind a curtain she drags out the sword of 
Pelleas.] 

Know you this sword ? 

Gawaine 
'Tis but a sword : I know it not. 

Etarre 

The hilt 
Has graven letters : hearken their device, 
"The son of Ork; be strong and hold me fast." 

[120] 



Gawaine 

Pelleas! the sword! Tell me, whence came the 

sword ? 
Who brought it to your hands ? 

Etarre 

Who else but he ? 
Pelleas the slain, the dead knight from his grave ! 

Gawaine 
Through shadows of the early day he crept 
And in your ear dropped poison ? told you all. 
With bitter words probed deep his injury, 
And searched the vitals of his hate ! 

Etarre 

I know 
But this, that Pelleas lives and can avenge. 
That you have dealt with perjury and shame. 

Gawaine 
You know that I have falsely wrought, have lied. 
Worked with untruth : these things you know full 

well. 
You know not that I was by Pelleas sent. 
By him enarmed, trusted with tale of death. 
You think not of the strife within my soul. 
Unbodied forces in contention thrown 
For mastery within me. Do you mind 
How you with praise assailed me, with soft word 
And glance ? Not I, not I, who played me false. 
But you who brought me ruin. 'Twas a vow, 

[1211 



Upon this very hilt 'twas given oath. 
And now it is betrayed. It was a knight, 
Who in great tourney won this very sword, 
And now he is betrayed. You ask me, Why ? 
With Wherefore vex me — you who know so well ! 
Your eyes, your lips, your body's silver form, 
These are the Wherefore, these the cunning cause. 
So deadly, so corruptive to the mind, 
That were the deed undone, and I to choose, 
I'd choose against all honour, and with you 
Blind out this pallid ghost of knighthood, drown 
Reproach, and strangle recompense. 

Etarre 

Away ! 

Mine eyes are stricken with the sight of you 
And inward turn, praying for some release 
From this most bitter vision. You have dared 
To wed me with the broken ring of faith 
Forsworn ; you've snapped in twain the lute of 

joy. 

And Happiness, bright minister of God, 

That solitary hermit who descends 

But once a year from his eternal rocks 

Into the market-place of men, you've crowned 

With crown of thorns, dealt stripes and buffeting 

And sent him back Into the desert heights 

To weep forlorn. You've brought me grief and 

hate, 
And now 'tis I who wronged you, I who led 
Your helpless honour to dishonour's grave ! 
Away ! and come not ever to these halls 

[1221 



Lest I forget my woman's heritage 
And like a man avenge me. 

Gawaine 

Give me word, 
And let me speak. For much pleads with my 

cause 
And with me makes defence. 

Etarre 

The very night, 
Which shelters crime and to the deeds of sin 
Accords its refuge and unhallowed screen. 
Betrayed you. I have heard and seen and judged. 
Yea, judged too kindly, leaned too much aside 
To mercy. Go ! And if you here remain. 
You idly wait : here shall I not set foot 
Until within the court I know the hoofs 
Of your departing steed bear from my life 
Its crudest injury. 

Gawaine 
No steed have I 
Who am alone in all the land. 

Etarre 

Then take 
From out my stables. Quick ! make haste and go. 
[She turns abruptly and leaves the room.] 

Gawaine 
So shatters that mysterious glass of love 
Wherein delight was mirrored ; so departs 

[123] 



That glorious ray, and so the night returns 

With all its solitude. Lo, I am cast 

For ever from the light ! Farewell, Etarre ; 

You were unkind, and with a passion's storm 

Brought devastation to the garden-close 

Wherein love blossomed. Wrath and fiercest hate 

Were never of a speedier onset borne. 

And the red flight of hell was never stirred 

To such a fury. On the mound which marks 

Your love's decease, my thought shall plant a spray 

Of budding thorn for memory. Mighty Heaven, 

That on our thought and action boldest count. 

Bear witness in thy universal scroll, 

I am misjudged ! [pausing suddenly] Or am I 

judged aright ? 

To quick repentance should I turn, or hate ? 

Be scornful or be sad ? 

[He turns to go.] 

What's done is done. 

Close meditation's gloomy book of fears ; 

I'll read no more in it. 

[Fergus enters.] 

Who's here ? 

Fergus 

I came 

With other hopes than these, nor thought to find 

Gawaine within the land. 

Gawaine 

Yes, you are he 
Who on the moors thought every wind which blew 

[1241 



Christened the serf with knighthood, equal made 
Low born and high. 

Fergus 

And of false wooers spake 
A word not unfulfilled. 

Gawaine 

That rankling tongue 
Has learned no better trade than erst it knew. 

Fergus 
No better trade than truth. 

Gawaine 

Nor lighter curb 
Than that which silences for ever. 

Fergus 

Knight, 
If knight you be, who so with knighthood deal, 
111 taught am I in that mysterious lore 
Whereof my master speaks ; 'tis honour called. 
It bids us spare the foe when at our feet 
He crumpled lies ; when prison doors spring wide. 
It spurns escape ; when fortune to our hands 
Has brought, unarmed and sleeping, our revenge. 
It falters in its anger. 'Tis a staff 
Which leads us into regions insecure 
And robber-haunted ways. It is a lance 
Which backward wounds, a double-toothed sword. 
I am not learned in this subtle craft ; 

[1251 



For me a single law sufficient rules, — 
To help my friend and slay mine enemy. 
And when I hear this speech of low and high, 
Base-born and noble, I am much perplexed — 

Gawaine 
As all men are, with what they cannot grasp. 

Fergus 

One truth I know, one truth I grasp secure. 

You have betrayed my master, worked him wrong 

As only death can pay. He has released 

That mortal payment, left you all unharmed ; 

And you, who know how great a debt is here. 

Unmoved remain within these halls. Take horse 

And ride with all the cudgels of the wind 

To speed your flight ! Or else on bended knee 

Cry his forgiveness ; praise that noble heart 

Which unto anger turns not ; to all men 

Bear forth the shield of his tranquillity. 

Recount his deed in every festival 

And at the door of kings proclaim his worth. 

Go forth in penance. You have worked a deed 

Which I, low born, of honour all untaught. 

Should hold too black for doing. 

Gawaine 

May the fiends 
In caldron's brazen darkness thrust you down ! 
Such taunts with th' sword are answered, not with 
words. 

[1261 



Fergus 

Such taunts are written in the book of deeds 
Where every word is truth. You dare not slay, 
Who with a guilty eye stare out on me 
And with fear's ague tremble to behold 
Your deed confronted. 

Gawaine 

Then, false deed, be still, 
And never more between those lips be cast 
To work me slander. 

[He draws his sword against Fergus.] 

Fergus 
You have slain enough. 
First 'twas your honour which you stabbed to 

heart 
And with that stroke to Pelleas' happiness 
Dealt mortal blow ; then 'twas a virgin name 
Which you from life despatched with lusting hand ; 
And now on pardon's messenger you turn 
Your deadly blade. 

Gawaine 

Unclothe that mystery. 
And let me look on naked form of thought. 
Not on these wordy veils. What message comes ? 
What is this pardon you are sent to bring ? 

Fergus 
'Tis dead. Lest it should fall between your hands, 
I've slain it. Go, and dream that mad revenge 

[127] 



With dripping foam upon her speechless Hps 
Is on your track, pursuing with red feet 
In murder dabbled, and with rabble-rout 
Of demons plucking at your fleeing hair. 

Gawaine 

So have you driven the last bolt and bar 
Across your tomb. 

[He strides with drawn sword against Fergus.] 

Fergus 

And so with blade drawn bare 
Stood Pelleas above your sleeping couch 
And at your throat set hate's envenomed point ; 
Yet spared you, spared you in your marriage 

sleep 
Which was to his lone love the sleep of death. 
Have you from mercy's high example learned 
No lowly creed ? 

Gawaine 

Within our tent, you say ? 
Above our couch ? What ? found me lain with 

her 
And took no vengeance ? 

[After a pause.] 
Verily, 'tis here, 
Knighthood's most glorious pattern to all time, 
Mercy's most perfect counterpart. Be sheathed. 
Mad sword of hate ; be still, and strive no more ; 
In other lands we'll seek a nobler crown 

[128] 



And bear this emblem of bright chivalry 
Blazoned within our heart. 

[He turns and leaves the room. Through the oppo- 
site door AvRAN enters.] 

AVRAN 

High words were here, and wrangle of dispute. 
Are you alone ? Whence came that sound of 

strife 
Which from the rampart drew me ? 

Fergus 

'Twas a tale 

Which I to me recounted, of a knight 

Who did foul deeds with fairest countenance. 

AvRAN 

Two voices quarrelled. Who was here with you ? 
And how within these halls came you alone ? 

Fergus 

'Twas Gawaine bringing me a last farewell ; 
And as for me I seek some knight-at-arms 
To carry urgent message to Etarre. 

AvRAN 
WTience come you ? 

Fergus 



Where we inhabit. 



From the hill and open moors 

AvRAN 

Whom is it you serve ? 
[129] 



Fergus 
The greatest knight in all the western land. 

AVRAN 

Has he a name, that I may know of him ? 

Fergus 
A name that to your hearing rings not strange. 

AvRAN 

Then let me know it. 

Fergus 
Pelleas is the name. 

AvRAN 

Are you his servant ? 

Fergus 
With a message here 
That Pelleas with Etarre would speak. 

AvRAN 

You come 
On venture profitless. From open door 
You'll see dismissal beckoning your flight. 
Etarre has only hatred. Get you gone. 

Fergus 

Do you not know, the sparrows in the rain 
Of early morning hold another speech 
Than that of sunlight and clear day ? 

[130] 



AVRAN 

And what 
Portends that saying ? 

Fergus 

Do you tell Etarre 
That Pelleas is at hand, and would be heard. 
There is a change come over heaven's demean 
And other forces rule ; this message bear 
While I in search of Pelleas am departed. 

[He goes out.] 

AvRAN 

How insolent he stares ; his vaunting tongue 
Bristles with pride. Yet shall it soon be dulled, 
And like the thistle's head lie low, cut short 
By all the scythes of anger. 

[Etarre enters.] 

Etarre 

He is fled. 

AvRAN 

This very moment gone. 

Etarre 

I marked his step 
Some minute since within the court ; how say you 
This very moment gone ? 

AvRAN 

But, as you entered 
He did depart. How know you of him ? 

[131] 



Etarre 

Whom? 
Of Gawaine ? 

AVRAN 

No ; this knavish messenger 
Who plumes himself with dappled tints of pride. 
And Hke a mating bird struts high. 

Etarre 

Whom mean you ? 

AvRAN 

'Twas one from Pelleas come — 

Etarre 

What, come from Pelleas ? 
Good fortune works communion with my wish. 
What said he ? Is he yet within the land ? 

AvRAN 

Are you so eager, where I looked for scorn's 
Fierce speech of hatred ; nor for such a tone — 

Etarre 
Will you destroy me with impatience ? Quick, 
What said he ? 

AvRAN 
Word most insolent and vile ; 
That Pelleas with Etarre demanded speech. 
Here is affront o'ertopping all offence. 

Etarre 
Where is he ? 

[132] 



AVRAN 

Near at hand. His servant went 
To fetch him hither. 

Etarre 
Then take haste to wife 
And with all speed bring Pelleas to my sight. 

[AvRAN goes out.] 
Etarre 

How wretched are the dead, to whom remains 

No holy power in reparation's wand 

Transmuting into gold their baser deeds. 

Within the narrow channels of the grave 

They think upon their sins, and with no word 

Can alter that which erst they wrought amiss. 

The past cries out against them with its wrongs. 

And mem'ry presses for revenge. They writhe 

In all the torments of contrition's wheel 

And backward gaze upon their crooked years 

Which nought can straighten. Happiest are they 

Who in this life their evil ways discover 

And with repentant eyes trace out anew 

The virtue whence they strayed. O holy stream 

Of penitence, wash out this wretched stain 

Of passion false and unrestrained desire. 

Give me the love which I have spurned, lead back 

My life to those remoter happier days 

And let my changed heart atone to Pelleas. 

[Pelleas enters.] 
Pelleas 
It much repents me, this unhappy night 
Wherein I brought dissension's toothed fiends 

[133] 



To tear your love asunder. Anger's spur 
Too wanton played, and hate's distempered hand 
Caught from me that soft robe of gentle thought 
Which from barbaric nakedness enclothes 
Our wretched souls. That golden crown I lost 
Which heav'nly radiance binds to mortal brows, 
And with unworthy passion rode afield. 
If words can gain forgiveness to a deed. 
Forgive me. 

Etarre 
Nay ; for how shall I forgive. 
Nurse others into virtue, and myself 
Be sick with every vice ? 'Tis not the poor. 
The starveling beggar of the street, who gives 
Unto the rich. 

Pelleas 
The leper gives his blessing 
And 'tis as holy as the touch of kings. 
But you who are in mercy rich, forgive. 

Etarre 
Have I been merciful and set the bowl 
Of pity at my gates ? I am a fiend 
From heav'nly sorrow shut ; the very stones 
Within these walls are with more mercy fraught. 
Ten years of wrong have left you still as pure 
In your forgiveness as a youth who dreams 
All wrong illusive, all the world of gold. 
I come before you, penitent and shamed. 
Before your stainless honour throw me down 
And clasp the knees of mercy. In the house 

[1341 



Of your long-garnered misery and ill 
Can you yet find the grains of pity stored 
And uncorrupted ? 

Pelleas 

I have wrongly done. 
Ten years I have assailed you, made your life 
Most bitter to your lips, and at the last. 
When love before your castle held his steed. 
At dead of night across his sleeping eyes 
Set fire of deadly vision. Let me go. 
To death and danger my atonement make, 
And seek in new adventure novel crown 
To bind my fading glory. I forgive, 
If aught there be whereon forgiveness waits. 
Take Gawaine to you ; from his erring throat 
Draw back the sword which I have laid athwart. 
And let that curse be broken in your heart 
As in my heart it now long shattered lies. 
My sword, the hilt of Ork, the tourney's meed. 
Return to me. "Be strong and hold me fast," 

So is it written. 

[Etarre gives him the sword.] 

Etarre 
Leave me not alone ! 
Look, I am changed ; this mouth at breast of hate 
No more draws milk, these eyes no more seek light 
From wells of angry fire. Oh, leave me not ! 

Pelleas 
Through break of dawn I heard the distant horns 
Of wild adventure from new countries blowing. 

[1351 



Let me forget as I have now forgiven. 
Be still, dead years, and let me seek the world 
Where battles break like ocean's stormy surge. 
Where glory hides beneath the passing leaf 
And fame upon her highroad journeys far. 

Etarre 

dread event, and is thy vision true ? 

Last night within my fairest dreams appeared 
The warders of the haunted well, and stretched 
Their hands in supplication. " Choose," they said. 
And I unto that ancient crone replied. 
And knew that she should comfort me, nor stir 
My heart to the wild dreams of youth. "You 

choose 
The past," they said, and vanished from my sight. 
And I awoke, and cold against my throat 
The sword of anger pressed. Gawaine is fled ; 

1 drove him from me with contemptuous word 
And unto you with sudden passion turned 
Who so have loved me. Do not you depart. 
Make me your helpmate, teach me your great 

faith, 
And let me live as you have lived and wrought. 

Pelleas 

I cannot love you now. This naked sword 
Has cloven us for ever. Hark, the horns ! 

Etarre 
I hear no sound. 

[1361 



Pelleas 

The horns ! hark, how they ring ! 
The horns of wild adventure in my heart 
CaUing to battle ! calling. . . . 

Etarre 

Give me love ! 
Pelleas 

Now are the seas of pity troubled deep 
Within my breast. I cannot love. Love comes 
Unheard, unseen ; in silence so departs. 
Our ears are not attuned to melody 
Of his sweet progress. Those ethereal sounds 
Vanish within us in a dust of sense. 
For who has heard the fingers of the sun 
That sweep across the lyre-strings of the rain ? 
What mortal ear with sweet enchantment's touch 
Has heard the moving stars at play, or caught 
The magic silver song of floating moon 
Whereby the waves like charmed birds are drawn ? 
We are too grossly fashioned. Who has heard 
The midnight hammer of the winter frost 
Spanning the rivers with an icy bridge, 
Or caught the ringing of his chisels keen 
Cutting the tracery of fern and flower 
In wayside rut and frozen marsh and pool ? 
We cannot hear the footfalls of the Spring, 
Nor answering cry of blossoms underearth 
In winter darkness waiting for the sun. 
And Love we cannot hear. He comes and goes. 
And no man sees him. Think me not unkind 

[137] 



So passionless to answer. Love is fled, 
Unheard in silence. But the horns of war, 
These ring and cry within my ears. Farewell ! 
There is some madness caught upon my life 
And drawing me away. Hark, hark, the horns ! 
Farewell, and live in peace for all your days. 
[He suddenly stoops to kiss her forehead ; then with- 
out a word departs.] 

Etarre 
Stay, stay ! You are betraying me to death ! 
O life ! O life ! Broken the empty shell. 
Withered the kernel. Naught remains. The night 
Closes upon me with its memories ; 
The curtain of my life descends to veil 
All happiness for ever from mine eyes. 

[She turns to the window.] 
Lo, he departs : and from my spirit flee 
All present joys, all future ecstasies. 
And nought remains save only thought withheld 
Upon the visions of adventured days. 

[A pause.] 
Meseems that I have always loved the past. 
And now within those halls, so drear and pale, 
My habitation taken for all time. 
O memory, live within me ; with your hand 
Lay cooling touch upon my fevered brow 
And draw my spirit toward the hills of peace. 
[Alone in the room, she bows her head within her 
handsy and weeps.] 

CURTAIN 



MAR 19 1912 



